Manipulating Time
by PresidentRomana
Summary: When the Seventh and Eleventh Doctors, along with their companions, are plucked from their time streams, they soon realise they are merely pawns in this multiverse game of chess...
1. Chapter 1

*DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who and its characters belong to the BBC. I do not profit monetarily from this story. No copyright infringement intended.*

* * *

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Now then, Sexy, where are we off to?"

The Doctor danced around the console of his enchanted grotto, spinning on his heels as if he were in a ballroom (which the TARDIS did have, somewhere…probably…he couldn't remember). His fingers caressed the vast array of switches and levers that adorned the centre console, lingering over some and pressing others, as if he were choosing chocolates from a selection box. The central column of his time machine rose and sank as it breathed in the vortex.

Once his moment of whimsy had passed, the Doctor allowed himself to collapse into the nearest chair and allow the gentle humming of the TARDIS coax him into the peaceful realm of sleep…

Without warning, the cloister bell gave a low howl and the TARDIS shuddered violently. The Doctor was woken as he collided harshly with the glass floor. As his mind focused, he could hear Amy's faint footsteps heading towards the console room as well as the familiar grinding sound the TARDIS made as it tore apart the fabric of time and space to materialise.

These were soon joined by a distinct knocking on the TARDIS door. The Doctor dragged himself to his feet and edged towards the slab of blue which separated him from whatever was outside. As he pulled the doors open, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw…

The Doctor straightened his bow tie and looked down at the man, sporting a ghastly pullover and panama hat, who stood before him. Contrary to his unimpressive stature, the familiar stranger stared back at him through stormy eyes expelling the energy and confidence of a man five times his height. As the man's eyes narrowed slightly, the Doctor thought he saw a glimpse of a lightning bolt striking menacingly through the storm clouds.

Then the storm passed, and the man smiled. A young girl, no older than eighteen, wearing a worn-out bomber jacket, appeared beside him.

"Hello!" the man said. "I'm…"

"The Doctor," continued the Doctor.

"And this is…"

"Ace." The Eleventh Doctor's lips curled up into a soft smile as he said her name.

Ace stepped back warily. "How do you know my name, and what are you doing in the Doctor's TARDIS?" She thrust her right hand into her jacket pocket.

The Seventh Doctor took hold of her elbow before any explosives emerged. "No, no, Ace. Don't you see? This is me…the future me, that is. My…erm…?"

"Eleventh."

"My eleventh incarnation! And you see, Ace, this isn't my TARDIS; not now; not yet, but it will be, one day."

Ace's hand left her pocket and squeezed her Professor's, still not relaxed about the situation. Reluctantly, she allowed him to coax her into the future version of his time machine, and was soon taken aback. It was nothing like the antiseptic white interior she had learned to call home.

"Wicked," she mouthed as her eyes took in the bright lights and magic of the new TARDIS interior. "Looks a lot tidier than your one, Professor."

The floppy haired Doctor smirked as his younger self shot her a disapproving glare.

"I don't know what you find so amusing. It was very irresponsible of you coming here, knowing that I came here with Ace on the same day!" The Professor relieved himself of his hat and coat, obviously intent on giving his future self a long lecture. "You've triggered a temporal paradox!"

The other Doctor looked hurt. "Me? I don't remember ever coming here. I was plucked from the time vortex." He took a brief glance at the world outside. "Where is 'here', anyway?"

The younger Time Lord sighed. "We've landed on an asteroid in Area Z. You really should check the scanner before you open the TARDIS doors."

_So should you_, the older Doctor thought.

"Hang on a minute," said Ace, keen to join the conversation. "So what you're saying is that something's plucked us both out of our time streams and dumped us here? Wouldn't that mean we're outside space and time?"

"Very good, Ace," the shorter Doctor said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You've taught her well," said the other. His younger self smiled.

"I like to think so," he said, "although Area Z is still within the confines of space. It's a ring around the edge of the universe where time simply doesn't exist, so you were right about that part."

"See, Professor. I told you I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Indeed. You have grown up," said the Seventh, before looking up at his future, "but it seems I've done the opposite. How old are you, twelve?"

Suddenly, a woman's voice rang out through the myriad of TARDIS corridors. "Doctor! I think there's something wrong with the…!" She stopped when she reached the console room, her gaze locked on the two unexpected visitors.

"Temporal flux regulator? That would be me, I'm afraid. My TARDIS was plucked out of the vortex and materialised right next to yours, but don't worry. We'll soon have that fixed." The small stranger with the familiar accent danced past Amy, into the primary TARDIS corridor beyond, only to emerge several seconds later, somewhat perplexed. "What have you done with the secondary control room?"

"Ah yes," Amy's Doctor replied. "Nasty incident with some radiation. Had to reconfigure the architecture. Amy will take you, won't you Pond?"

The redhead was about to protest when the Doctor shot her a dazzling smile. She rolled her eyes and turned to the strange little man beside her, gesturing him to follow her.

Their silhouettes faded from view down the corridor, leaving the Doctor and Ace alone in the control room.


	2. Chapter 2

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"You're not the Professor."

Ace was leaning against the console, palms flat against its busy surface, refusing to make eye contact with the mysterious man who claimed to be her best friend.

"I _am_ the Doctor, Ace."

"That doesn't make you the Professor."

"I stopped being the Professor long before I regenerated."

Despite the distortion through the cylindrical centre column, Ace could make out a phantom of a sad smile as it crossed the Doctor's face. A thousand seconds passed…

She swallowed hard as tears pricked her eyes. "How does he… how does he…?"

The lump in her throat blocked the final word. A single tear traced the smooth features of her face. Silently, the Doctor appeared in front of her and wiped the tear away, his aging fingers a noticeable contrast from the usual paisley scarf. He held her close and stroked her hair, attempting to soothe the trembling teenager in his arms.

"That's another secret I have to keep, I'm afraid."

"Well, whenever it happens, he won't be alone," she sniffed, trying not to cry. "I'll never leave him. Not ever." Unnoticed by Ace, a pained expression ruptured across the Doctor's face. He gazed past her into nothingness, remembering all the pain he'd caused her – remembering what he'd done to make her leave. No wonder she'd hated him for it. He hated _himself_ for it…

"And whoever kills him will feel my fist and some nitro."

The Doctor's pain subsided as he softly chuckled. "That's my Ace."

oOoOo

"So what did you say your name was?" asked Amy, striding ahead of the stranger.

"I didn't." Although he took smaller and quicker steps than his fiery-haired guide, he didn't seem fatigued. On the contrary, he appeared to be full of energy and childlike whimsicality as he swung his novelty umbrella in lazy circles by his side. He ambled down the corridor like he owned the place, which was, Amy thought, slightly strange for someone who had only just arrived.

"Fine," she said. "I'll rephrase the question. What's your name?"

"The Doctor."

"Hilarious, but I think I know who the Doctor is, and you're not him."

"Really? How can you tell?"

"Because the Doctor is a crazy time-travelling alien who saves the universe in a bow tie and knows everything about everyone. Also, the Doctor's not from Scotland."

"Everything about everyone…" he mumbled quietly to himself. "It's Amelia Pond, isn't it?"

She stopped and turned to face him incredulously. "How did you… know?"

He took her hand and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Amelia. I'm the Doctor."

oOoOo

**Unknown TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

Inside a different universe, the darkness screamed in its infinite blackness. A figure emerged from the cacophony of nothing, his features illuminated by a single pulsating light, which flashed – on a machine hidden by the almost impenetrable darkness – in time with the figure's inaudible heartbeat. A ghost-white hand flicked an invisible switch. From within the depths of the machine came a distant humming sound, followed by a dim light which ripped a hole in the black veil of darkness, lighting up what appeared to be the inside of a TARDIS. The sound of two English and two Scottish voices – two male and two female - broke through the speakers on its console, and the man's face, still cloaked in shadow, twisted monstrously into a cruel smile.

The footsteps of a second entity grew closer…

"I trust you've performed your task adequately."

The newcomer grinned. "Well, you know what they say: if you can't trust yourself…"

"Don't flatter yourself. We are not the same person. We merely share a common ancestor. You are only a fraction of what I can be."

"That's a rather arrogant remark."

"And that's a rather brave one. Do not cross me, Dream Lord, or I will destroy you as quickly as I summoned you."

The Dream Lord raised his hand in a mock salute. "Yes sir."

"Go to the secondary control room and open the gateway. Now."

With a faint nod, the Dream Lord vanished.

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"So what am I like now, besides five inches taller?"

The Doctor was lying down, inspecting the underbelly of the secondary TARDIS console. The room itself was similar to how it had always been, and, as he fiddled with the complex tangle of wires behind one of the panels, he wondered how it had remained intact. The rest of his interior design work certainly hadn't.

Amy watched him in silent fascination. He would have looked almost normal without that garish atrocity over his shirt. Then again, it did seem to strangely suit this Doctor, just as that god-awful bow tie seemed to suit hers.

"You've got a similar love of weird clothing."

"Nonsense. His preferences are far from my impeccable sense of style."

Amy smirked. The Doctor stood up and frowned at her. "At least my companions and I have a fundamental sense of modesty."

Amy smiled sheepishly and tugged her skirt down a little, before turning towards the console.

"DOCTOR!"

Electricity cracked upwards from the console in a golden surge. The controls fizzed and sparked, as if frightened by the sudden outburst. The ventilators produced an angry hissing noise as gas flooded into the room. Coughing and spluttering, the Doctor and Amy ran for the door, crying out in anguish when they found it was locked. The Doctor ran back towards the console and grabbed the wires, only to yelp in pain as live electricity shot through his arm.

"DOCTOR! ACE! LET US OUT!" Amy pounded on the door, her pleas for help becoming weaker as the gas flushed out her energy and senses. The Doctor took up the cry, hammering the door with the handle of his umbrella. They turned back as a thick cloud of deep mustard-coloured gas hit them like a wave…

"HELP US!"


	3. Chapter 3

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Amy? Amy, can you hear me?"

The Doctor was pressed against the other side of the door, listening out for any sign of movement from within. The panicked cries had long since been smothered by an eerie silence and the door still refused to budge. He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the handle, setting its green tip aglow.

He released a low growl of frustration. Nothing.

"Oh, get out of the way." Ace elbowed the Doctor aside and revealed a sinister-looking deodorant can, which she placed in front of the door. The Doctor instinctively retreated to a safe distance as she lit the fuse…

A shattering boom rocketed through the ship, and the smoke dissipated to reveal the spot where the stubborn barrier had once stood. The Doctor and Ace were engulfed by the yellow fumes as they staggered blindly into the wreckage to search for their friends…

"Doctor? Are you there?"

"Yes?"

"No, not you! I'm looking for _my_ Doctor!"

"Oh right. Yes. Of course."

They continued to scrabble through the remains of the control room, despite the continuous hissing of the ventilators warning them to turn back. Finally, Ace's foot met with something soft…

She bent down to find the diminutive form of the Professor sprawled unconscious over the much taller ginger, who was slumped against the wall with her eyes tight shut. Both were breathing – just barely.

"Doctor! I've found them!"

The older Doctor followed her voice and was down beside her almost instantly. He scooped up Amy's limp body in his arms and gestured to Ace, who, with some difficulty, lifted the wilted form of her mentor.

"We've got to get them to the Zero Room. Now."

oOoOo

**Unknown TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"You idiot! You weren't supposed to try and kill them!"

"It worked didn't it?"

The Dream Lord's superior released a sigh of exasperation. "Be glad it did. Next time, try not to be so reckless in your approach."

"I have no control over it! The ships aren't linked properly!"

A bony finger was raised to silence him. "No matter. We have the main link now. You know what you have to do."

Once again, the dark entity faded from view. The shadowy figure bent over the console and pressed a button with a skeletal digit. The scanner blinked into life, revealing the image of what appeared to be Earth…

oOoOo

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"Doctor?"

"Ace, is that you?"

"Of course it is, stupid."

"Hmm…"

The Doctor sat up wearily to be greeted by the smiling face of his student, who handed him his hat and umbrella. His eyes darted in all directions as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Where are we?"

"We're in 18th century Paris. We got an invite to the king's ball. Don't you remember?" Ace looked into the Doctor's eyes, obviously concerned. As usual, they were completely unreadable.

"Which king?"

"I don't know. I think he was called Louis."

"Well that certainly narrows it down," the Doctor replied sarcastically. He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to free something that was clogging up his memories. "But what about Amy and the other me?"

"You don't remember?" Ace said, in disbelief. The Doctor shook his head. "Nah. Then again, I s'pose you wouldn't." She paused. "Doctor, I don't know how to break this to you, but…"

He looked into her eyes as deeply as he dared. Normally, it would have been easy to catch the drift of her thoughts that way. Now though, they were blank canvases; impossible to interpret.

"You remember the yellow gas in the console room, right?" He nodded. "Well, you and Amy had passed out and I'd injured my shoulder when the door exploded…" She removed her jacket and showed him the deep blood-stained canyon smashed through her shoulder.

"Ace, are you alright?" He restrained himself from reprimanding her use of explosives and instead concentrated on her wound. "Let me…"

She pulled away. "Let me finish, Professor." He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"I tried to carry you out, but I couldn't manage it, so he dropped Amy to rescue you. The gas was getting pretty intense. _I_ obviously couldn't carry Amy – but believe me, I tried - and the Doctor refused to risk his life to save her, so he left her to choke."

The Doctor's eyes widened, the storm clouds threatening to brew again. "You mean…?"

"I hate to say it Professor, but Amy's dead."


	4. Chapter 4

oOoOo

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"I'll wipe that swine off the face of the universe!"

He knew the universe was much too complex to have a face, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.

Ace struggled to keep up as the Doctor marched furiously across the park, which seemed to be taunting him with its overly cheerful atmosphere. "But Professor…"

"For the last time, I am NOT the Professor! I may have been –once upon a time – but not anymore. The Professor was light-hearted; he juggled and played the spoons; he was the eccentric little man who made you laugh. That man is dead, Ace. Forget about him. I've moved on." He refused to look her in the eye, but Ace was sure she saw a twinge of sadness there. She knew however, that it would take a million tears to put out the murderous fire that raged inside him – a million tears he wasn't going to shed.

"Doctor, this isn't what we do! You're always telling me we need to fight for the greater good! We can't murder your…"

"Greater good? No force of good executes his friends without batting an eyelid…" His knuckles were white where he was gripping his umbrella with crushing force.

"Give it a break, Doctor. I watched you destroy a whole planet!"

"I had my reasons."

"And he didn't?"

"I could have regenerated! I destroyed her only life because I was too egotistical and selfish to welcome change."

By now the sky had darkened to mimic the tempest in the Doctor's eyes, and the clouds were crying for him. He didn't put up his umbrella, but instead allowed the rain to collect in the brim of his drooping hat.

"What do we do now, then?"

"We go back to the TARDIS and hunt him down."

"But we can't do that, Doctor," Ace replied, secretly hoping he'd at least offer _her_ his umbrella. "We came here in the future TARDIS. Yours is still in Area Z."

The Doctor hissed through grated teeth. He was about to say something, when a shrill cry emerged from the nearby tangle of trees.

"Doctor!"

"Amy?" He turned to face the source of the noise and saw the redhead staring back at him through the bushes. He watched her stumble and collapse, disappearing into the undergrowth.

"AMY!"

He charged through the trees towards her, swatting away meddlesome leaves and branches with his umbrella. He ground to a halt at the spot where she had fallen.

She was gone.

"Hallucination?" asked Ace.

"It seems my conscience is already punishing me." The Doctor was practically seething with rage as he made his way back to open ground. He looked up at the angry sky and outstretched his arms, clasping his umbrella like a spear. Raindrops buffeted his face and stung his eyes as his voice thundered beyond and above the city. "DOCTOR! I KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE AND I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" He pounded his chest with his free fist to emphasise every syllable…

"FACE ME!"

oOoOo

Amy's head was spinning as she awoke. Where was she? She couldn't tell when her entire surroundings were spiralling in wild circles. She closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her sense of awareness.

Her nose twitched contentedly at the smells of freshly cut grass and home-baked bread. They hit her nostrils in a powerful nostalgic blend that reminded her of picnics in the garden with her aunt as a child.

She opened her eyes and took in the world around her. She was sitting slumped against a tree on the edge of what appeared to be a landscaped garden. On the opposite side was a bustling high street jam-packed with people from almost every walk of life: women dressed in rags reprimanding their children; husbands and wives conversing good-naturedly as they strolled past; pretentious-looking gentlemen helping ladies dressed like wedding cakes into carriages. She had never been particularly good at history at school (save for a commendable project on Roman Britain) but she made the assumption that this was the 17th or 18th century. She scoffed at their powdered wigs and hoped the Doctor didn't get any ideas.

On that point, where was the Doctor?

Feeling exposed and skimpily dressed under the turned-up noses of passers-by as well as the malevolent-looking rainclouds, Amy turned round and stumbled through the wall of trees which separated the serenity of the landscape garden from the hurried world outside. She made a mental note of what she needed to do:

1) Work out where she was.

2) Change into something not so blindingly conspicuous (and preferably waterproof).

3) Find the Doctor.

On second thoughts, that third point should be her priority.

"Doctor?"

She ambled through the undergrowth, searching for a clearing. At least he might be able to find her there.

"Doctor?!" She yawned slightly.

She could hear birds tweeting contentedly in the treetops. She smiled and walked on…

_Hang on a second. She knew that noise…_

The sinister chirruping intensified to a near-deafening volume. Amy clasped her hands to her ears and soldiered on. She needed to find the Doctor.

"Doctor!"

"Amy?"

Upon hearing her name, Amy looked up and saw the Doctor with Ace in the clearing (not _her_ Doctor, but the Doctor nonetheless) looking like he had seen a ghost. Her hands fell limply to her side and her knees trembled.

And then the world went black…

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Psychic pollen!"

"Eh?"

"The yellow gas in the control room – it's psychic pollen!" Ace couldn't tell if the Doctor was nervous or excited as he twirled past her, wielding his sonic device. He reminded her of the Professor back when he wasn't the puppeteer of the universe.

"Oh yeah? And what's that when it's at home?"

"It's a parasitic life form from the Candle Meadows of Karass Don Slava. It sends people to sleep and feeds off the darkness in their minds. Didn't try to choke me last time, though. It's at an abnormally high concentration…"

"So are they alright?" Ace was standing between the unconscious levitating forms of her Doctor and Amy. The Zero Room was much more inviting than it used to be. The lights and walls had changed from stark white to a pale blue, making it look less like a hospital ward and more like the morning sky. She held the Professor's hand in hers, tracing its lines and creases with the tip of her index finger.

"Right now – physically – yes. It's what's going on in their minds that we need to worry about."

"In their minds?" Ace looked at her tutor's face. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough. Then again, it was nigh impossible for her to read his thoughts that way. It always had been.

"Psychic pollen locks its prey in a dream state. If I'm correct, then things are about to take a turn for the worse."

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

Before he could respond, Amy let out a sudden gasp and sat up with a jolt. Her eyes locked on the Doctor – _her_ Doctor – and wrapped her arms tightly round his neck.

"Amy, what is it? What happened?"

"I heard the birds! The Dream Lord, he must be back!"

"Hush now. It's alright. The psychic pollen's been removed from your system. Everything's under-"

The Doctor winced in pain and pulled away from Amy's embrace. He clamped his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Doctor!"

"Face me."

"What did you say?"

The pain subsided and he opened his eyes. "What? Oh, nothing," he said, straightening his bow tie. "Ace, could you escort Amy to her room? There's something I need to do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Apparently the last chapter got a bit confusing, so (hopefully) the end of this one should clear a few things up a bit. It's great to know that so many of you are enjoying this! Thanks for all the faves and reviews! :D**

* * *

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Alright, spill the beans."

"What?" Amy's arm was wrapped around Ace's shoulder as they meandered down the endless TARDIS corridor.

"What's going on here? What happened? You mentioned a Dream Lord…?"

"Oh, yeah. The Dream Lord's like this dark version of the Doctor who traps you in dreams. Everyone who's in it dreams the same dream at the same time. You were there with your Doctor, and…"

"Eh?"

"Yeah. We were in the 18th century, I think, in a garden in the rain."

"Listen, Ginger. It's flattering knowing that you two've been dreaming of me and all, but I wasn't there."

"Are you suggesting there are two of you?"

"Anything's possible when the Professor's around."

"I'll second that. We've got to get back to the Doctor and tell him."

"You're tired. You need to rest…" Amy ignored her and marched off back down the passageway. Ace smiled and followed, wishing she knew more people with this sense of determination.

oOoOo

The Doctor was still bathing in the blue serenity of the Zero Room, clutching his old umbrella and remembering why he had once grown so attached to it. He looked at his past self – still floating and fast asleep - and tried to configure him with the version in his mental photo album. He had never been sure of who he was back then. His personality had managed to change drastically without the need for a new body – for better or for worse he couldn't say. He'd sunk to depths far deeper than he would dare to nowadays.

He'd have loved to know what was going on in his younger self's head at this point. The paradox meant he had no recollection. This had never happened, and now anything _could…_

The furious telepathic message he'd received moments ago was enough to tell him that something was very, very wrong. _Face me._ Why?

"Enjoying your own company, are you?"

The Doctor snapped out of his reverie and spun round in surprise. "You! What have you done?!"

The Dream Lord held up his hands in mock surrender. "Woah! Don't shoot the messenger."

"Messenger? Who are you working for?"

"All in good time."

"TELL ME!"

"Hmm… no." With that, the Dream Lord faded away.

"No no no! Come back here and FACE ME!"

He whipped a hand across his mouth to silence himself. _Face me…_

"Doctor!" Amy burst into the Zero Room, closely followed by Ace.

"Amy! I sent you to get some rest."

"No time. We've figured out something that could be important."

"As have I," the Doctor said.

"We need to pool all our knowledge together and come up with a plan," said Ace as she stepped between them. "What do we know?"

"First, we all got pulled from the time vortex and dumped here…"

"…which triggered a paradox. That means someone must be interfering with time…"

"The Dream Lord?"

"No. It can't be. He only has power in his own worlds."

"So who is it?"

"I don't know, but I think the Dream Lord's working for them." The Doctor racked his brain, searching desperately for answers. "We'll figure that out later. What happened next?"

"The yellow gas."

"That psychic pollen was at too high a concentration to be coincidental. Someone plumbed it in deliberately through the ventilators," he explained. "It has to be someone who knows TARDIS technology like the back of their hand…"

"Like you? It could be him!" Amy pointed at the shorter Doctor, who was still sound asleep.

"Nonsense!" Ace interjected. "The Professor may be barmy, but he wouldn't try to choke himself and trap himself in a dream!"

"Ace is right," said the Doctor. "It can't be him. I know my own mind. Amy, you were in the dream world. What happened? Anything suspicious?"

"I think it was the 18th century. Ace was there, but she says she never fell asleep. Is that possible?"

"Something's wrong. Only you and him," he pointed at his younger self, "were asleep. There must be more than one Ace."

"Are you suggesting that while we're here, the Professor's running around in a dream world with an imaginary duplicate of me?"

"Yes Ace," the Doctor replied, "and not only that – he's running around in a dream world hating my guts and wanting to destroy me at the first chance he gets…"

"What? Why?"

"He dropped a hint. Amy, what else happened? Did he say anything? Did Ace say anything?"

"I only saw them from a distance," she replied. "He looked scared though; scared and angry."

"Maybe the other me told him something bad," suggested Ace.

"Quite possibly," retorted the Doctor. "So, we've got the Dream Lord, a dream world, a mystery manipulator, a fake Ace and my younger self who wants to face me and quite probably kill me. I've never come across that combination before."

"So we've got to rescue you from the dream world, right?" the redhead asked. The Doctor nodded.

"You managed to free Amy from the dream world by plumbing out the psychic pollen from her system," said Ace. "Can't we just do that with the Professor?"

"He's been under its effects for too long. Doing that would rip his mind apart."

"So we need to go into the dream and kill him so that he wakes up here?" proposed Amy.

"Quite right, Pond. It looks like we'll have to charge into this head first…"


	6. Chapter 6

oOoOo

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"What now, Professor?"

Under the Parisian sky, the Doctor and Ace were resting on a bench on the perimeter of the garden, he leaning on his umbrella handle, and she on his shoulder. His temper had cooled since the hallucination fiasco, as if his anger had been washed away by the rain, which had now diminished into a disappointing drizzle. The park was quiet and still, with not a single person in sight. Most had probably decided to hide from the untrustworthy weather.

"We wait."

"That's what we've been doing for the last two hours! Can't we do something interesting in the meantime?"

As if answering her question, a robotic voice fissured out from behind the trees. "_Match found. This is the Doctor!"_

"Gordon Bennett!" Ace cried as she and the Doctor leapt up from their seats. Emerging from the shadows of the trees behind them was a platoon of armour-clad humanoids wielding ominous weapons. Whether or not they originated from Earth was hard to tell – the ruthless black metal of their artificial skin hid the organic features.

"_Name… the Doctor. Charge… Deceit. Sentence…"_

"Doctor, what…?" The Doctor grabbed hold of Ace's hand tightly, silencing her.

"_Sentence…Execution."_

"Run!" The Doctor snatched Ace to the right as laser fire shattered the space they had just occupied. They continued to run as the blue surges of energy snapped at their heels. A gun fired a deadly shot at the back of the Doctor's skull. It missed and knocked his hat violently from his head, making him thankful for those few precious inches he'd lost in height during his last regeneration. Ace darted to the left and he to the right as another burst of fire power erupted behind them.

"This way, Professor!" Ace beckoned him to where she had found refuge behind a large oak.

"Get away!" he hissed, accompanying his words with frantic and dismissive hand movements. "They're not after you!"

"Yeah, well I don't want them after you either." Ace ran out from behind the tree and thrust her hand deep into her jacket pocket. She cursed aloud. She was out of explosives.

"_The female is an accomplice of the Doctor. She will be executed. Execute! Execute!"_

"Ace!" The Doctor sprinted across the open ground and collided directly with his companion, sending them both tumbling into a patch of undergrowth in the jumble of trees. They heard an earth-shattering boom as the lasers churned the turf where Ace had stood moments ago.

"Blimey, Professor…"

"Are you alright, Ace?" he whispered softly. He hadn't moved from where he lay on top of her.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Shhh!" He put a finger to her lips to silence her. The sounds of heavy boots and artificial voices grew closer.

"_We must split our forces. Find the accused! Find his accomplice!"_

The footsteps dissipated out of earshot. Ace felt the Doctor relax a little.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Ace?"

"Get off. You're squashing me."

"Right. Yes. Sorry." He rolled off sheepishly and sat next to her. The awkward silence was filled by an impromptu explanation. "They're members of the Truth Legion from Terra Beta. They split from the Happiness Patrol several millennia ago."

"Over what? Fashion differences?"

The Doctor didn't answer that particular question. He tried to look stern, but a glint in his eyes revealed his mild amusement. "They only recognised me on sight. They don't have any genetic scanners in their suits. If we lay low for a while, we might be able to evade them."

"Why do they want you, Professor? What did you do?"

"I deceived; I lied; I manipulated. I've pulled the strings of many a friend and many a foe. For example, I've kept secrets from you on many occasions. The Truth Legion despises any form of deceit, no matter what its intentions are."

"So they want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

He smiled. "Their lawyers have a much more severe sense of justice than those on Earth, but yes, that aspect remains the same."

"So what do we do?"

"We hide."

"And how do we do that?"

"That ball you were talking about earlier, is it by any chance a masquerade?"

oOoOo

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"So, explain the plan again?"

The Doctor, Ace and Amy stood by the entrance to the secondary control room (what was left of it, anyway), each clutching a large jam jar.

"We catch enough psychic pollen in these jars to send us to the dream world, but not enough to damage our respiratory systems. We inhale it and whizz bang whollop, we're in Paris!" he explained with childish glee.

"You make it sound like we're collecting fairy dust, Professor."

"And _you_ make it sound like you don't believe in fairies!" he replied.

"That's because I don't."

"Nothing's impossible, Ace."

"Hey, you two, let's get back to business, shall we?" Amy interjected. "What makes you think we'll end up in Paris? What if the Dream Lord sends us somewhere else?"

"He won't," the Doctor retorted, suddenly deadly serious. His voice was now a low, dangerous growl. "He wants us there. We're like Hansel and Gretel entering the gingerbread house."

"Let's go and boil a witch then," said Ace, unscrewing the lid of her jam jar.

"Let's," said Amy, doing the same.

The three musketeers clambered over the remains of the entrance and into the mist, waving their arms in fast swooping actions. They screwed the lids back on their jars tightly and made their way back towards the exit.

"Is that enough?" asked Amy, holding up her catch and peering through the glass.

"Yes. That's plenty," the Doctor replied. He held up his own jar to initiate a toast. "To reality and friendship."

"To reality and friendship," the others chorused. They each took a deep breath and inhaled the yellow substance. After a few moments, they collapsed, welcoming sleep as it calmly embraced them.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter jumps around a bit, so hopefully it's not too confusing. I've stated character POVs to make it simpler. All the loose ends should start coming together soon. Thanks for all the faves and reviews, guys! :D x**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Seven and Ace_)

**Royal Palace Entrance, Paris, 1765**

"You look like a right plonker, Professor," Ace giggled. She didn't know where he'd sourced these costumes from, but one thing she did know was that his made that awful pullover look like a trend-setter.

"Don't be silly, Ace. We're at the height of fashion."

"You look like Shakespeare and I look like a wedding cake." She would have given a twirl to prove her point, but her dress wouldn't allow it.

"Nonsense. Shakespeare was around over a century ago. Besides, you look lovely."

She snorted amusedly. "At least we've both got masks. How are we getting in anyway? We can't be announced as Ace and the Doctor. It's too conspicuous."

"Ah," he said, grinning. "Don't you worry about that." He took her arm and escorted her towards the palace entrance. After several bows and curtseys to various members of the French nobility (which Ace only just managed to scrape through with her dignity intact – the dress was a nightmare), they entered the glorious ballroom.

"_Professeur Jean Forgeron et sa femme, Doroth__é__e."_

"Dorothée? God, I hate you sometimes." She was tempted to stamp _really_ hard on one of his feet, before deciding social convention wouldn't allow it. The Doctor simply smiled. Another couple approached them and the Doctor bowed elegantly. Following his example, Ace curtseyed as graciously as she could.

"I do apologise," the man said, "I didn't catch your name."

"Professor Jean Forgeron," the Doctor replied, "and this is my wife, Dorothée."

"_Wife?_" Ace hissed. "How old do you think I look?"

"It fits the social and historical context, Ace, now remember your manners," the Doctor said quietly, his lips barely moving, similar to a ventriloquist's.

Ace curtseyed again. "Pleased to meet you," she said half-heartedly.

The rest of the conversation involved the Doctor speaking on Ace's behalf about whatever it was they were talking about. She was much more interested in the canapés being handed out on the other side of the ballroom and, even more so, in the waiter carrying them. He was an awkward-looking bloke, Ace thought. He looked just about as out of place as they did.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a sharp nudge in the ribs, which, surprisingly, she could still feel through the frustratingly tight corset. She quickly curtseyed as if on autopilot and turned back to the Doctor.

"May I have this dance?" he said, bowing melodramatically. Through his mask, she could still see a glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

Ace giggled. "Of course, _husband._"

They danced tentatively at first, only swaying slightly to the music. Ace mimicked the Doctor's steps as best she could, trying hard not to fall over. Over time, however, she felt less like an outsider. It was as if no one else existed besides her and the Professor – not in a clichéd romantic way, of course. She'd never see him like that. It was the only position in her life he would never fill. This was more like the way two children would play dress-up in their bedrooms, unrestrained by the bounds of social convention; free of judgement.

"Who was that you were talking to, anyway?" she asked.

"Oh, no one special," he replied dismissively. "Only the king and queen of France."

She snorted. "Well I don't think they were very impressed with me."

"Well, I think it's fair to say you're not princess material…"

"Cheers, Professor."

oOoOo

_(Eleven and Ace)_

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"Where's Amy?"

"Wherever she fell asleep last, I'll suspect." The Doctor and Ace were crouched behind a bush in some sort of landscaped garden. The night air was cold, and Ace pulled her jacket tighter.

"So what's the plan, then?" she said. "We find the Professor and kill him?" She knew she would only be ending a dream, but it still hurt her to say it.

"Yes, that's the idea," the Doctor replied, adjusting his bow tie. "How we go about doing that though, is a different question. We'll have to make it up as we go along."

"Normally the Professor knows exactly what he's doing before he dives into the action."

"Well, I was a different man back then, quite literally."

oOoOo

_(Amy)_

**Downtown Paris, 1765**

"Mother! I think she's awake!"

Amy's eyes fluttered open. A young boy, no older than fourteen, wearing simple hand-me-down clothes was leaning over her in fascination. He withdrew as she sat up and took in her surroundings.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You collapsed in the park. You looked rather unwell, so we took you home."

"Home?"

"It's not much," said the boy, waving an arm at the interior of the run-down shack they were in, "but it's better than nothing."

"How far are we from the park?"

"Several minutes at most," the boy replied. "Aren't you going to…?"

"Before he could finish, Amy had left the shack and was striding determinedly towards the park where, she hoped, she would find the Doctor.

.

oOoOo

_(Seven and Ace)_

**Royal Palace Ballroom, Paris, 1765**

"Professor?"

"Yes, Ace?"

"Those people up there sure don't look like guests."

The Doctor followed her gaze up to the gallery above the entrance, where several members of the Truth Legion were standing.

"No, they don't." Suddenly remembering their desire to fit in with their surroundings, the Doctor took the lead in another dance, much faster than the first.

"Professor, slow down! I'm going to fall over!"

"Relax, Ace. You're doing fine."

"You can't tell that. You can't even see my feet."

"I don't need to," he replied, smiling smugly. She smiled back. "Now keep your back straight and… one two three… one two three…"

She let him lead her through the steps and, slowly but surely, managed to pick it up. Her sixteen year old self would have laughed at her, but, truth be told, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

"One two three… one two three… one two three… twirl…"

Ace twirled, only to collide with the misfit waiter from earlier, sending the silver platter, and the wine which now adorned it, crashing to the floor. Both parties stammered an apology and the waiter bent down to collect the broken glass around their feet. Ace sighed at her wine-soaked dress before squatting down to help.

The Doctor pulled her back up again. "Go and get yourself cleaned up, Ace."

"But I have to help…"

"Remember the _context_, Ace. We mustn't draw attention to ourselves." He risked a glance at the armoured beings in the gallery.

"Wait for me outside, then," she sighed, before disappearing into the haze of the masked upper-class.

The Doctor edged away from the mess and weaved a path through the waltzing couples to the veranda. He picked up his umbrella from where he had left it behind one of the marble pillars and looked out across the palace gardens, now only illuminated by the moon and stars, which blinked at him with attentiveness.

A sudden movement in the shrubbery caught the Doctor's eye. The tall silhouette of his future incarnation emerged from the silvery leaves, closely followed by Ace. The Doctor's steel eyes locked onto his green ones as their owner made his way up the steps onto the veranda.

The Doctor held up his umbrella like a sword and pointed it accusingly at the newcomer. He spoke with a voice like acid.

"You murderous scum…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay, guys! I've been REALLY busy. I'll try and upload the next chapter as soon as I can.**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Seven, Eleven and Ace_)

**Royal Palace Veranda, Paris, 1765**

"Professor, you don't understand…"

"Get away from him, Ace. He's dangerous."

"But Professor…"

"Now!"

"NO!"

The Doctor almost dropped his umbrella. He stared at her in shock, stunned into an unnatural silence. He could see fear in her eyes, just like she could see the fear in his. There was determination there too. Fierce determination.

His eyes flicked back to his future self. "It's bad enough that you murder your own companion, but now you turn my own against me?"

The other Doctor's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "What? I never…"

"You left Amy to choke."

"That's a lie! She's perfectly safe!"

"Is that so? Then tell me, _Doctor_," he said his own name as if it sickened him, "where is she?"

The taller man scratched his head, ruffling his mop of hair. "Well, I… she's… she's…"

"Exactly!" the younger cried, striding closer towards his double.

"No! That's not…" His reply was cut short as the umbrella handle was hooked around his neck, tugging him downwards.

"Leave him alone, Professor!" cried Ace, who attempted, in vain, to seize the umbrella from his hand. He swatted her away and drew out a sword.

"I don't believe men used to carry swords to masquerades," his future self choked, still struggling under the umbrella.

"I don't believe I'm an ordinary man," he retorted, swiftly releasing the umbrella from around the other's throat. The older Time Lord flinched when he felt the cool steel blade of the sword take its place. He winced as the smaller man hooked his umbrella handle around the tip of the blade, driving it painfully into the skin of his neck.

Looking up into the steel eyes of his opponent, the Doctor growled, "Go on then. Look me in the eye. End my life."

"You can't use my own words against me."

"I believe they're my words too." He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and unleashed a throbbing sonic wave, which sent the sword flying from the other Doctor's hand. It fell to the ground with a metallic clatter, and was followed by a resounding silence.

The weapon was swept up by Ace, who pointed it at the Doctor – _her_ Doctor – with its blade pressed uncomfortably between his two hearts.

"Ace," he said softly, edging backwards until he was pressed against the wall. "I'm afraid I don't understand…"

She laughed, though there wasn't any humour there. "That's a first. Normally it's me who's kept in the dark." Her hands were trembling, and the Doctor knew it wasn't just from the weight of the sword. "This whole world's a dream, Professor, and to free you from it, I… I have to kill you."

"He's been lying to you, Ace!"

"No, Doctor. _I've_ been lying to _you_. There's a copy of me who's been running round with you and telling fibs." She turned to the older Doctor for clarification. He nodded back grimly. "She's just a fragment of the dream."

"How can you possibly be sure that this world is false? How can _I_ be sure that you're _not_ false? For all I know, you could be the copy and the real Ace is in danger."

"How can you say that, Professor! I'm Ace!"

"The real Ace wouldn't threaten to run me through." He felt the pressure from the sword decrease as she pulled it back slightly.

"I _have_ to, Professor."

"Go on then! Kill me!" He flung his arms wide, inviting her to drive the blade through his chest. "If you're so sure that this world is a dream, then all you have to do is lunge forward."

Ace was shaking, and the sword was lowered. "I can't!"

"Why not? It's what you set out to do, isn't it?"

Before she could reply, Ace collapsed.

.

oOoOo

(_Amy_)

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

Amy was still marching through the tunnel of trees, pondering her current scenario. If she hadn't been 'rescued' by those peasants (she hated using such a derogatory term, but decided to anyway, for lack of a better word), she would have been able to do something _useful. _With her luck, she'd have missed all the action by the time she reached the palace.

She wondered what might have happened while she was asleep. What did the question-mark Doctor and Ace think had happened to her? No doubt she had been carried away before they reached her. Did they think she'd completely vanished?

Finally, the trees parted, and Amy found herself facing the grand outline of the royal palace, its exquisitely sculpted exterior only just visible in the silver moonlight.

And then the birds sang.

"Now's really not a great time!" she complained aloud over the piercing chirping.

The sound intensified as she stumbled blindly into the clearing. Amy saw a flash coming from the palace veranda and recognised it instantly as the blade of a sword.

Looked like she _was _missing all the action after all.

"Doctor!" she cried, with a sense of déjà vu.

As her vision clouded over, she thought she saw her Doctor look across at her. She didn't catch his eye (because it was difficult to catch _anything_ in her current state.) Instead, she allowed the grass beneath her feet to cushion her fall as she fell back into the blackness of sleep…

.

oOoOo

(_Seven and Eleven (and Ace))_

**Royal Palace Veranda, Paris, 1765**

"Ace! Ace, can you hear me?" her guardian said, anxiety cracking through his voice. He was down by her side, gently shaking her shoulders. His eyes scanned her for any injuries she may have attained from her collision with the hard ground.

There were no injuries, but there was also no response.

He looked over his shoulder. "What have you done to her?" he said, anger bleeding through the worry.

"Nothing. She's just asleep."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I don't remember being quite this impossible when I was you."

The younger man of the two grumbled something inaudible and turned back to his companion. The other snapped up his head rapidly.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That sounded like Amy!"

"It's a hallucination."

His older self ignored him and leant over the veranda, looking across the gardens. "I can't see anything. It's too dark." He took out his sonic screwdriver, but it barely scratched the black surface of the night. "I'm going to take a look. Take care of Ace."

"With you on the loose, I wouldn't consider anything else."

The other Doctor straightened his bow tie and shot his past self a cold stare, before climbing over the wall to search for his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

oOoOo

(Amy and Ace)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Uurgh, not again!" the ginger groaned, waking up groggily from her slumber. She sat up and looked around, slightly confused by the fact that she appeared to be in her bedroom.

"My chemistry set! Wicked!"

"Hmm?" Amy swivelled round to see Ace marvelling at a selection of bottles and test tubes on top of a chest of drawers. The glassware looked long forgotten, coated in a thin film of dust. "Oh. That."

"Looks like the Professor kept it after all."

"Well, the Doctor can be a bit of a sentimental idiot sometimes."

"_Your_ Doctor, maybe. Not mine," Ace replied, picking up a test tube and blowing away the dust.

"Even so, you obviously mean a lot to him."

Ace smiled. "He means a lot to me too." She set the test tube back on the table and surveyed the rest of her surroundings. "So this is your room, yeah?"

"Yup."

"Um… why is your bed in the shape of a racing car?"

Amy shot a look of distain at the red Ferrari in the corner of the room. "We said we didn't want bunk beds. According to the Doctor, this was the next best thing."

Ace smirked. "At least it's a double. The Professor says I can't bring people home."

"Seriously? That's a bit hypocritical of him!"

"Hypocritical? Are you implying…?"

"Oh yes. He's married. I try not to think about what happens when I'm not around."

Ace exploded into a fit of hysterics. "The Professor? Married? Pull the other one, ginger!"

The infectious laughter spread, and Amy joined in. The two young women giggled for what seemed like an age at the thought of that funny little man in a romantic relationship. Eventually, the laughter died down and, wanting to save herself from any unwanted mental images, Ace asked another question. "Who's your boyfriend then?"

"Husband. His name's Rory."

"I'd love to meet him. Where is he?"

"He's… oh no."

"What?"

"I've been so caught up in the action that I completely forgot…

Where's Rory?!"

.

oOoOo

(Rory)

**Royal Palace Ballroom, Paris, 1765**

Rory was confused.

It wasn't like he wasn't used to being confused – going with the flow and getting caught up in the Doctor's weird time manipulations was a common occurrence – but he was confused all the same.

He didn't know how or why, but for some reason he had become a waiter at a masquerade ball.

He wondered if he was an Auton again, before coming up with two reasons why he couldn't be:

1) As far as he was aware, he hadn't died.

2) Last time, he had had pre-existing knowledge of Roman battle strategies and the like. After spilling wine over one of the guests, he was pretty sure he had no knowledge of this scenario whatsoever.

Luckily, said guest decided not to make a scene.

After clearing up the glass, apologising to the woman and her husband a hundred and one times and standing firm against the flood of angry words from his manager's mouth, he slalomed through the maze of socialites and headed towards the door. However, when he glanced back at what he was about to leave behind, he noticed something up in the gallery… something strange… some sort of robot?

Whatever it was, it didn't look good.

A voice in his ear put the brakes on his train of thought. "Listen, I'm sorry again… about earlier. I heard your manager shouting at you. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble…"

Rory spun round to be greeted by the masked girl from earlier. The stain on her ballgown was less noticeable now, but it still spoiled the material. What was her name again? Dorothy?

"Oh, no… really. It's nothing. It was my fault."

"Don't be daft. It was _my_ fault. I'm a terrible dancer."

Rory smirked. "You should see me at nightclubs."

She lowered her mask. "Nightclubs?"

"Oops."

"You're not from round here, are you." It wasn't a question. It was a simple statement.

Rory stared at the ground, scratching the back of his head. "Well…"

"It's alright. I'm not from around here either."

"Really? I thought you didn't sound French. Where are you from?"

"Oh, um… far away."

"Yeah. Me too."

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Rory."

"Nice to meet you, Rory. I'd love to stay, but I really should be getting back to my friend… I mean… husband. "

She left through the back doors onto the veranda, leaving Rory thinking about how he really should be getting back to his wife…

That would have to wait. Right now, he had some black robots to investigate…

.

oOoOo

(Amy and Ace)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Shhh!" said Ace. "I think I hear something!"

The sounds of footsteps grew louder as they made their way towards them down the passageway.

"Rory, is that you?"

"Of course it is," said Rory, poking his head around the door. "I'm hardly the Doctor."

"Where were you? Didn't you feel the temporal turbulence?"

"Well look at you, using all the fancy words!"

"Oh, shut up," Amy replied, grinning.

"The TARDIS isn't exactly small, you know," he continued. "It's hard to know what's going on when I'm so far from the control room."

"Fair point."

"Oi, ginger. Aren't you going to introduce me?" The couple seemed to have forgotten about Ace perched on the edge of the bed.

"Right. Yes! Ace, this is Rory; Rory, this is Ace."

Ace stood up and thrust her hand forward. Warily, Rory reached out to shake it.

"Um…hello," he said. "How did you get on board?"

"Through the front doors, silly."

"Hilarious," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Ace responded with a childish poke of the tongue.

"I'm a friend of the Doctor's," she added. "I'm not trying to sabotage the TARDIS or anything."

"Nice to know," he retorted, as Amy embraced him, happily nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, I get a hug, do I?" he continued. Amy stiffened. There was something wrong with his voice. "If I remember correctly, you wouldn't come anywhere near me during our last meeting."

"Amy, get back!" exclaimed Ace, shooting up from her position on the bed.

"What…?" Amy looked up and immediately thrust herself away, as if he had scalded her. She looked on with horror as her husband's body twisted and contorted into sickening shapes one could only see in horror films; melting and bubbling. She felt as if her stomach were twisting in the same way. Moments later, the writhing mass of flesh had once again grown to resemble something vaguely human. But it wasn't Rory – oh no – it was… it was…

"YOU!" Amy cried, edging backwards until she felt Ace's tight grip on her shoulder. "What have you done with Rory?!"

"A simple 'hello' would have sufficed," was the response. The Dream Lord straightened his bow tie. Whenever the Doctor did it, it looked endearing. Now, it was sinister. "I see you admire my new party trick."

"Admire it?! Why you little toerag!" Ace took a step forward, only to be stopped when Amy's arm swept in front of her chest.

"Don't you dare show your temper to me! Sit down and be quiet!" The Dream Lord's voice knocked Ace back to her position on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not a little girl," she said, her arms tightly crossed.

"Of course you're not, Miss Doolittle," the Dream Lord smirked. "You're a good girl, you are."

Ace didn't know who Miss Doolittle was, but she recognised sarcasm when she heard it. Her fists were ready to let fly, but she determinedly kept them pinned to her sides.

"Why are you here?" Amy interjected.

"Oh really, Amy, must we go through this again?" the Dream Lord sighed. "Two worlds – one's real… the other's fake…"

"Right… right. Got it, thanks."

The Dream Lord smiled mischievously before fading from view.

"This world is the real one, right, ginger?"

"Yeah. The Doctor said so… but… wait… That can't be right…"

"Eh?"

"Last time we met the Dream Lord, the Doctor said he only had power in his own worlds," explained Amy, pacing up and down the room. "If he's appeared to us here, then this world has to be a dream! Ace, have you seen the Dream Lord anywhere in Paris?"

"Not that I remember…"

"Exactly. Neither have I. Paris is real!"

Ace's eyes widened. "But that must mean…"

"The Doctor… _my _Doctor…"

"…is trying to kill the Professor, thinking it's a dream…"

"… but it _isn't_ a dream!"

The two women gaped at each other in terror.

"Well," said Ace, quietly. "That's certainly thrown a spanner in the works…"


	10. Chapter 10

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"Amy? Are you there?"

The Doctor stumbled blindly across the grass, his sonic screwdriver held out in front of him in case of any nasty surprises. He had never been afraid of the dark, but the light from his sonic diffused into the blackness to form an ominous green mist, which he found rather unsettling. He shuddered, but kept walking, his boots scuffing the lawn. No matter what, he needed to find Amy – not only for proof to save his own skin, but he was desperate to save _her_ skin as well. He was sure this world was a dream, but even so, he'd need an extra pair of hands if he wanted to kill his former self.

After several minutes, his foot kicked something. Bending down to examine it under the faint glare of the screwdriver, the Doctor realised it was his panama hat. He picked it up to inspect it and wriggled his fingers around in a hole scorched through the back. He placed it on his head and kept walking…

"_Halt!_"

The Doctor froze as a narrow beam of light shone in his face.

"_Accessory analysed. Accessory belongs to the Doctor. Explain!"_

"Oh, this?" said the Doctor, fumbling with the hat as he swiped it from his head. "It's mine. I'm the Doctor!"

"_No match determined._"

"Oh please," the Doctor replied, rummaging through his trouser pocket. He pulled out an ID card and held it up to the light. "Take a look. Scientific advisor for the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Who are you, anyway?"

The light scurried across the surface of the card, accompanied by a high pitch whirring sound. "_Match found! This is the accused!" _ The metallic humanoid stepped forward into the green haze.

"Uh-oh."

"_Execute! Execute!"_

"Oh no you don't!" As if out of nowhere, Rory appeared from behind the figure wielding a silver platter, which he started to use to attack it. The metal viciously came into contact with the black helmet, sending it crashing to the ground. The figure's knees gave way, and it fell forwards, where it struck the earth in a jumbled mess of plastic. The Doctor looked on in disbelief.

"Rory Pond, you just deactivated a member of the Truth Legion with a dinner plate. I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well…"He paused and looked with embarrassment at the Doctor's headgear. "A panama? That's new."

"Not as new as you'd think. Anyway, where have you been? I haven't seen you since the TARDIS landed."

"In the palace, waiting tables. Don't ask me why. Then I saw these things up in the gallery and followed one of them. I should have known it would take me to you… Where's Amy?"

oOoOo

(_Seven (and Ace)_)

**Royal Palace Veranda, Paris, 1765**

The Doctor sat cross-legged on the veranda, looking intently at his young companion who lay in front of him, covered by his jacket. He shivered against the cold night air and wished he still had his pullover. He knew the period costume was necessary to keep themselves hidden, but that didn't mean he liked it. Handling her as carefully as one would a porcelain doll, the Doctor pulled her towards him. He uncrossed his legs and let her head rest in his lap. Time Lords may have been superior to homo sapiens in many ways, but at least humans had higher body temperatures. Ace made a nice blanket.

"Professor, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor looked up to find the other Ace, still in her ballgown, standing by the back door. "Ah, Ace. I was wondering where you'd got to."

"Who's that?" she said, pointing at her double. "It looks like… like…"

"You. Yes. She's a fake."

"Then why are you looking after her?"

"My future self still believes she's the original. If I keep him in the dark for long enough, then perhaps I can use her to formulate a plan to get rid of him."

"You're still set on killing him?"

"He's a murderer, Ace."

"Fine. Where is he, then?"

"He went that way," He pointed out across the garden, "to search for Amy. She's not out there, of course. He's just trying to escape me."

"So why didn't you just run after him?"

"He'd outrun me easily. Just look at the length of his legs."

"Fair enough."

Unnoticed by the Doctor, the other Ace's eyes fluttered open. They drifted around, charting her surroundings, until they fixed on her double and hardened. She sat up, but never unlocked her gaze.

"Ah, Ace," said the Doctor. "You're awake. I was beginning to worry."

"You lying little…"

"You what?" The other Ace took a step backwards as she tried to hide from her own dark stare. Suddenly she was knocked to the ground as her double dived at her.

"Ace, no!" the Doctor cried as he jumped to his feet to try and separate the brawl. Without warning, a stray boot cracked across his chest, propelling him backwards, where the back of his head brutally collided with the marble pillar. He slid down the column and reached out a hand to touch the epicentre of the pain. He then withdrew it to find it soaked with blood. As consciousness slipped away, he saw the Ace in the bomber jacket pull out a deodorant can…

"No, Ace…no…" His world went black just late enough to see a fiery explosion shatter everything around it, encircling both girls in a merciless ball of intense heat and light.

.

oOoOo

(_Eleven and Rory_)

**Royal Palace Gardens, Paris, 1765**

"How many times have I told her not to carry explosives?!" The Doctor stared angrily at the aftermath of the attack. Even from this distance, he could hear the panicked cries of the guests as they ran in the opposite direction from its source. "Rory, I need you to…"

The Doctor heard footsteps pounding across the grass away from him, towards the palace.

"Oi! I don't really want you getting into trouble either!" the Doctor cried, before abandoning his search for Amy to follow her spouse.

.

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"ACE!"

He sat up suddenly to be greeted by the morning sky… no… that wasn't it. He looked around in all directions to discover that he was floating.

_Aha,_ he thought. _The Zero Room._

He picked up his umbrella, which he had found discarded on the floor beside him, and used it to prop himself up. His knees were trembling as he called out.

"Ace, are you there?"

The silence that followed implied the negative. He sighed and took a step forward, only to stumble and collapse. His contact with the ground was prevented by another man wearing tweed and a bow tie, who caught him under the armpits.

"Woah, there!" the man said.

"Who…what…where…?"

"So many questions surrounding you. I wouldn't have expected you to ask any though," the man said quietly to himself, before raising his voice. "You lost consciousness in the other world by accident – and rather violently too, it seems – so you might feel a bit dizzy for a while."

The Doctor regained his balance and stared up at the stranger. "Who are you?"

"I am the Dream Lord."

"How pretentious."

"Says the Doctor, President-elect of the High Council of Time Lords; Keeper of the legacy of Rassilon, Defender of the Laws of Time and Protector of Gallifrey."

"Yes, well that was _your _side of me shining through."

"You know who I am, then?

"Of course."

The Dream Lord looked down at his alter-ego, mildly impressed. "You're sharper than the floppy-haired loon. I'll give you that."

The Doctor grunted. "That's hardly saying much. How did I get here? Ace said our TARDIS was nowhere near Paris…"

"Two worlds – one is real; the other's fake. Choose a world. If you die in the dream, you wake up in reality. Ask me what happens if you die in reality."

"You die. That's why it's called reality."

"Very good," said the Dream Lord. "You know, for someone who claims to be on the side of the angels, you seem to have an awful lot of experience in hell's fires."

"Let's get back on topic, shall we?" the Doctor replied, not keen on this change of subject.

"I think not," said the Dream Lord in response. "I couldn't miss the chance to discuss ethics with arguably your most immoral incarnation."

"Immoral?" the Doctor exclaimed in shock, talking a step back. "I've always stood for the greater good."

"The greater good, eh?" the Dream Lord chuckled. "We'll see about that." He clicked his fingers, and the Doctor blinked in bewilderment as the Zero Room faded away before his eyes to be replaced by one of the TARDIS's many passages. He scowled when he saw his future self lying unconscious against the wall, shrouded in yellow gas and clutching an empty jam jar.

"He murdered his own companion, I believe," the Dream Lord continued, "and he could murder many more. If you fight for the greater good…" He handed the Doctor a silver knife. "… then kill him."


	11. Chapter 11

oOoOo

(_Eleven and Rory_)

**Royal Palace Veranda, 1765**

When the Doctor finally caught up with Rory on the scorched veranda, he found him tending to his past self, who was leaning unconscious against a blood-stained column.

"Professor Forgeron, can you hear me?" asked Rory, checking his pulse. "You'll be fine, trust me. I'm a nurse."

_That's an odd pulse,_ he thought. _His heart must be going crazy._

The older Doctor's eyebrows rose sharply. "Who? Professor Forgeron? Oh please."

"Doctor, now's really not the time to ridicule someone's name!" Rory exclaimed, sounding disgusted. "He's losing a lot of blood here!"

"Rory, this world is a dream! We've got to let him die in order for him to wake up in reality."

"The Dream Lord again?"

"I'm afraid so," the Doctor replied.

"That explains the whole waiter thing." Rory rolled his eyes at his own blindness.

"And I have a feeling there's something bigger going on as well, but we can't tackle that until we've sorted this."

Rory shuffled aside to let the Doctor crouch down beside the Professor. "So what are you going to do?"

"High frequency sound wave," the Doctor replied, revealing his sonic screwdriver. "Shuts the brain down almost instantly. Completely painless."

"But our brains will be fine, right?"

"Of course not! It's a dream, remember? We've all got to die."

"But what about my wife? What about _his_ wife?" Rory replied, pointing at the lifeless younger Doctor. "We're just going to leave them here?"

"His wife? What –" He stopped himself. He'd save that question for later. "They'll find us and know what to do. I can't concentrate the sound wave, Rory. It's all of us or none of us." He pushed a button on his screwdriver and the high pitched buzzing intensified…

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

The knife felt heavy in his hand; it felt like it was burning through his skin. He was used to playing the executioner – he'd destroy whole planets if he had no choice – but this wasn't an execution; it was _suicide…_

He looked around. The Dream Lord was gone.

He raised the weapon above his head, ready to bring it down on the man in front of him. He'd regenerate, wouldn't he? Maybe his twelfth self would be more compassionate; less selfish; a little less like he was now, perhaps…

The knife came down…

Suddenly, a piercing artificial shriek shot through the Doctor's brain, joined by a metallic clang as the knife, still clean of blood, slid from his hand and hit the floor. He staggered back, his hands clasped to his ears and his face a mirror-image of pain itself. After several more seconds trapped in this excruciating malice, he collapsed next to his future self.

oOoOo

(_The Dream Lord_)

**Unknown TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Is this your doing, Dream Lord?" his superior asked, his eyes fixed to the monitor.

"Annoyingly, no. The sonic probe in the other world's somehow broken through to his head as a painful replica of the bird song. He's asleep."

"How is that even possible?"

"They're the same person. There must be some sort of…"

"…multiversal telepathic connection between them. Yes, I see…"

The Dream Lord sighed and scratched his balding head. "I can't bring him back yet. The signal…"

"…from the sonic probe overpowers the original bird song."

"Yes."

"Well then, it's a good thing we've got an Ace up our sleeve."

The Dream Lord smiled slyly and disappeared.

oOoOo

(_Eleven and Rory (and Seven)_)

**Royal Palace Veranda, Paris, 1765**

"How long have we got, Doctor?" asked Rory, already feeling as if parts of his brain were shutting down.

"Until the sonic wave reaches the right frequency? Thirty seconds tops."

"Doctor, stop!"

"Ace?" The Doctor turned round to see Ace – with her black bomber jacket now a dusty grey due to the rubble- as she stumbled from the wreckage. "Ace, are you alright? We saw the explosion…"

She answered his question with a silent nod, before her eyes locked on the battered form of her best friend.

"Professor!" Ace limped over to him as fast as she could and knelt beside him. She grabbed hold of his hand and held it tightly. "Professor?"

She turned to face the other Doctor. "Is he going to be alright?"

It was Rory who answered. "I don't know. It was a pretty sharp blow and he's already lost a lot of blood…"

"It's my fault. I lashed out by accident. I didn't know he was standing there… I've killed him…"

"Ace, it's only a dream," the Doctor replied. "He'll wake up back on the TARDIS –"

"No he won't, Doctor! You've been so determined to save your own skin that you've missed the blindingly obvious…" Tears were threatening to cascade again. She swallowed hard.

"Ace, what…?"

"Has anyone seen the Dream Lord in the TARDIS? Yes! Has anyone seen the Dream Lord here? No!" Her shouts suddenly became a terrified whimper. "This world is real, and the Professor might not survive in it."

The Doctor and the nurse exchanged a frightened glance. It was the latter who spoke first. "Look, Dorothy, I'm so sorry…"

"Dorothy? The name's Ace, got it?"

Rory shot Ace a quizzical expression, but the angry glare he got in return told him not to question her.

"Ace," a voice groaned, "are you alright?"

Ace's face lit up. She turned back to the Professor, now awake. "That's what I should be asking you."

"I could be better."

"I can see that."

"How's your shoulder?"

"My shoulder? Forget about my shoulder. We've got to get you to a doctor – a _proper_ one…"

"Just answer the question."

"It hurts, I guess."

Rory turned back to the older Doctor. "Pass me your hat."

"_My _hat," the younger interjected.

"Oh shut up. You're meant to be dying," the Doctor said, flinging the panama to Rory, who removed the hatband and tied it round the Professor's head as a makeshift bandage.

The younger Doctor winced in pain. His future self took control.

"Rory, you worked here. Anywhere we can take him?"

"Um… there's the…"

"That'll do. Carry him there. Ace, go and find water and some bandages."

Ace ran off without hesitation.

"No… must go to… the balcony… Bring Ace back… It's important…"

Rory scooped up the Professor in his arms. "Professor Forgeron, we're trying to save your life here. We can't go to the balcony."

"Do what he says, Rory."

"But, Doctor…"

"I don't know what he's up to either. Just do it. I'll go and find Ace."

oOoOo

(_The Dream Lord_)

**Unknown TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"I think he may have figured it out," the Dream Lord said, back in the twisted version of his alter-ego's much loved time machine.

"Which one?" his superior asked, striding back over to the monitor.

"Professor Higgins."

"I suppose that's to be expected."

"If this goes on for much longer, he's going to find little Amelia. I suggest we take him now before he becomes useless to us?"

"There is no alternative. Resume your previous position. It's about time I took on an active role in this operation. I'll take him."

oOoOo

(_Seven and Rory_)

**Royal Palace Balcony, Paris, 1765**

"Here we are," said Rory. He was currently wearing the Doctor's panama, despite several half-hearted attempts by its owner to snatch it back on the way up the stairs. He set the Doctor down against the exterior wall of the palace before sitting down next to him. "You feeling alright?" he asked.

"The bleeding's stopped, thanks to your first aid. I'm not going to die now, if that matters."

"Of course it matters. Your wife's a bit young to be widowed, if you ask me."

The Doctor smirked. "Ah yes, my lovely, charming wife." He chuckled quietly to himself.

"Why does the Doctor trust you so much?" Rory asked, changing the subject. "He doesn't normally do what he's told."

"He knows me extremely well, which, now that I think about it, makes me wonder why he trusts me at all."

The atmosphere on the balcony was strangely serene. The stars sparkled dimly in the sky, watching the two time travellers, as if they were listening in on their conversation.

It was worth taking in the beauty of it all, the Doctor thought. If all went to plan, this might be the last chance to do so.


	12. Chapter 12

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Royal Palace Ballroom, Paris, 1765**

The ballroom was abandoned. Masks had been trampled into the floor as their owners had stampeded towards the exit after the explosion. As much as he frowned upon it, the Doctor knew Ace would be secretly proud of herself for this. She enjoyed making a scene. She always had.

Of course _he _was pretty efficient at creating mayhem too, but normally managed it without explosives. He wasn't a fan of those.

Except fireworks, of course. Fireworks were lovely. He knew of a spectacular pyrotechnic display on Omicron Five, where the fireworks created music as well as lights. Perhaps he should take Amy and Rory there one day…

He shook his head to get his mind back on topic. Fireworks would have to wait.

"Ace, come back!" he called. His voice reverberated around the hall. "We're needed on the balcony!"

"Doctor!"

The Doctor turned round to be greeted by his fiery haired companion.

"Amy!" He embraced her in a tight hug. "You're not dead. That's good news."

"Nice to know," she replied. "Wait a sec… you thought I was dead?"

"Yes… well… not me… well… it _is_ me… but not _me_ me – the _other_ me."

"You have such a way with words."

He grinned. "Don't I just. Have you seen Ace?"

"In this world? No. That reminds me, this one is real and the other one isn't, just in case you were planning on suicide."

"Thank you. I already knew that." He smiled and turned away after gesturing to her to follow him.

Amy's shoulders sank. "Looks like you don't need me then."

He turned back to face her and sighed. "Oh, Pond, I'll always need you." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Come on. We've got to find Ace."

oOoOo

(_Seven and Rory_)

**Royal Palace Balcony, Paris, 1765**

"So what do you do for a living?" Rory asked.

"I travel, the same as you do."

"Where do you go?"

"Everywhere. The universe is like a giant bag of confectionery. I have the ability to delve into the bottom of the bag and pull out whatever sweet delight is to offer. Occasionally though, you end up with the blackcurrant ones. Horrible things."

"But, how do you get around? It's not like…"

"In the TARDIS, the same as you do."

"But there's only one TARDIS, isn't there? The Doctor said they were all destroyed in the Time…"

Rory stopped when he heard a soft thud next to him. "Professor Forgeron?" He turned to see the Doctor lying unconscious, his head now resting on the floor rather than against the wall. "Professor Forgeron, can you hear me? Professor!"

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Well that's irritating."

The Doctor sat up and scratched his head, only to lie back down again feeling slightly nauseated. The Dream Lord had said something about accidental losses of consciousness making one feel dizzy in the other world. He must have fainted, he thought. Must have lost too much blood.

How undignified.

When this was over, he decided, he would need to have a nice long talk with Ace about the consequences of violence. There were better ways to settle disputes.

Once he had regained his sense of balance, he stood up and surveyed his surroundings. His attention was first grabbed by his future self lying in front of him, and then by the knife, which lay discarded by his feet. He cursed under his breath, and picked up the weapon.

Something suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye; something dark and sinister like a shadow. He turned to face it.

"YOU!"

"Feeling murderous are we, Doctor?" the man said, indicating towards the knife.

"Now that you're here, even more so, _Valeyard._"

The Valeyard stepped forward so that his pale face now bathed in the dim glow generated by the psychic pollen. "How flattering. Aren't you going to ask how I escaped the Matrix?"

"It wasn't on the top of my to-do list."

"You were never one to follow lists."

"If you tell me, you'll change your own past. When… when you're created during my twelfth regeneration, you'll remember what you said to me here and know how to escape the Matrix sooner –maybe even prevent yourself from getting trapped in there at all."

"I'm almost impressed. You know, you always were the incarnation I was most proud of."

"Don't insult me."

The Valeyard pretended he hadn't heard. "So much deceit; so much malice. Apart from your successor, you were definitely the one most soaked in blood."

The Doctor had a comeback prepared, but his curiosity got the better of him. "My successor?"

"Indeed. He was a king in check rather than a chess master, but in the end the 'greater good' got the better of him too, on a rather large scale too, I seem to recall."

The Doctor's face remained fixed in its previous expression, but the Valeyard was sure it had turned a shade whiter.

"Why are you here?"

The Valeyard stepped forward. The Doctor instinctively stepped backwards.

"I came to capture a certain Time Lord, but I'll admit I wasn't expecting it to be a live one."

"Stay away from me!" the Doctor cried, brandishing the knife. He used his free hand to point at the sleeping man in the bow tie. "Take him instead. He's the murderous one!"

"He's not the one I need, Doctor. Not yet, anyway."

"Whatever it is you want, I'll play no part in it!"

"That's not your decision to make." He reached out a hand holding a thick metal cuff. The Doctor lowered his weapon and tentatively took the bracelet from him.

"A short range teleport?"

The Valeyard nodded. "Either come with me, or I'll _make_ you come with me."

The Doctor stood still for a moment assessing his options. He bent down to pick up his umbrella. Once he had straightened up again, he threw the teleport at the Valeyard's feet and ran as fast as he could in the other direction.

"Come now, Doctor. I think that counts as an illegal move." The Valeyard clicked his fingers and the corridor in front of the Doctor suddenly stretched and contorted, becoming a dead end except for a small door. Knowing he was trapped, the Doctor had no choice but to go through it. "Check," the Valeyard exclaimed.

The Doctor found himself in a small bedroom. Ace's chemistry set was exhibited on a chest of drawers, and in the opposite corner of the room was… a Ferrari? Two figures lay unconscious on the bed.

"Ace! Amy!" The Doctor scurried over to them and scanned his current companion for any injuries. "Ace, can you hear me?" he asked nervously, feeling for a heartbeat. After an hour-long second of silence, he repeated the process with Amy. Before he had the chance to check her pulse, the Valeyard burst through the door and snapped his fingers, causing the pollen to shoot through every ventilation shaft on the left side of the Doctor like a swarm of locusts. In defence, the younger Time Lord opened up his umbrella and held it out like a shield. The Valeyard chortled at his futile efforts and clicked his fingers again. The same happened on the Doctor's right hand side. Surrounded, the Doctor coughed and spluttered as the pollen flooded into his lungs. He collapsed between the two young women.

"I win, Doctor. Checkmate."

* * *

**Well done to MayFairy for guessing correctly. :D**

**Thanks for all the follows and reviews, guys!**


	13. Chapter 13

oOoOo

(_Eleven and Amy_)

**Royal Palace Gallery, Paris, 1765**

"Don't you get the feeling that some of these paintings are watching you?" Amy said. The walls of the gallery were lined with exquisite paintings of the French aristocracy, past and present. They stared back at her through the canvas with cold, painted eyes.

"Not these ones, but sometimes they do – other paintings, I mean."

"How very comforting."

"Indeed."

Amy stopped following the Doctor and inspected the floor.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"These don't look like human-sized footprints."

The Doctor spun round on his heels and crouched down at the spot at which Amy was pointing. "Ah, yes. You're right. Oh dear."

"What's wrong?"

The Doctor looked up. His eyes widened. "Amy, behind you!"

Before Amy could spin round, a black hand swept across her mouth from behind, pulling her ferociously backwards. Her muffled cries of terror were accompanied by frantic kicking and stamping, but to no avail. The black humanoid held her with a fierce grip, slowly suffocating her.

"Let her go!" the Doctor boomed, moving forwards, only to retrace his steps when the officer pointed a laser gun at his head with its free hand.

"_The accused and his accomplice are located. You will share the locations of the others._"

"The others? What others? Why should I tell you anything?"

"_You do not match our data files on the one known as the Doctor. Where is the other who is accused? Sources describe two other accomplices: one female and one male. The second is also charged with assault against an officer. You will share or she will die." _The officer's grasp across Amy's mouth grew tighter, which forced her head backwards, resulting in a stifled yelp of fear and pain.

_They mustn't find Ace or Rory,_ her mind screamed, _and if they kill your other self, then you'll cease to exist. Leave me, Doctor. Leave me!_

Her eyes met the Doctor's; hers were filled with terror; his were filled with apologies.

"They're on the balcony," he sighed. "Now let her go."

The member of the Truth Legion didn't let her go, but instead wrenched Amy's head backwards, producing a sharp crack. The Doctor watched in a mix of hopelessness and fury as Amy's corpse was thrown in front of him. Her neck, now mangled and contorted, was covered by her fiery hair.

The Doctor tried to form words, but none came. His mouth was too dry to speak, just like his eyes were too dry for tears.

"_One accomplice has been executed. Second execution imminent._"

The gun pointed at the Doctor's head whirred into life. Fuelled by a blazing blend of emotions, the Time Lord ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, ducking and weaving as shocking green laser bolts rushed past him, missing their intended target. He sprinted down the nearest corridor, shielding his face with his arms as crevasses were blasted into the walls on either side of him.

Suddenly Ace emerged from one of the many doors leading out into the passage and was knocked down by the Doctor, who had fiercely collided with her.

"Doctor! What's going on?" she shouted over the sound of laser fire.

The Doctor replied by pulling her to her feet and tugging her behind him down the corridor. She looked behind her and saw the advancing shadows of several armour-clad members of the Truth Legion.

"Hang on a sec!" she cried, snatching her hand away. She pulled out a can of nitro, set the timer for two seconds and hurled it at the enemy. The burst of heat and light which followed caused the ceiling to crumble above the advancing troops, burying them under the brick and plaster.

Amy might not have had her funeral, but her burial had been taken care of.

oOoOo

(_Seven and Rory_)

**Royal Palace Balcony, Paris, 1765**

The Doctor woke up covered in a thin film of sweat, breathing heavily. What did the Valeyard want with him? No doubt it was him who manipulated his time line in the first place. His future self must be here for a particular reason…

"Professor Forgeron, are you okay?"

The Doctor sat up to be greeted by a rather worried Rory. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern." He paused for a moment. "I never said… I'm deeply sorry about your wife."

Rory froze. "What do you mean? Where's Amy?"

"As much as I despise your Doctor, I'm willing to believe him when he says this is the real world. I know the other is a dream, but I thought you should know that Amy died there. The Doctor killed her to save his own life. I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you."

"I've just come back from the dream world. I know what I saw."

"You saw Amy dead?"

"I didn't have time to check, but I'm certain she was. Ace told me she was, and I trust her completely."

Rory slumped back against the wall. "But the Doctor wouldn't do that… he wouldn't…"

Before Rory could come to terms with this new information, Ace burst out onto the balcony, closely followed by the much taller Doctor.

"Professor! Ace ran over to her tutor.

"Go away! You're not the real Ace."

Ace's smile faded. . "I've had enough of this." She crouched down in front of him at eye-level. "Look me in the eye and tell me I'm not the real Ace."

He looked into her eyes as deeply as he dared. His mind slalomed through the tangles of hers, weaving between the strands that made up her soul – black and blue and silver and gold. He surfed the cresting waves of her thoughts and dived to their near-unfathomable depths. Upon returning to his own head, the Doctor's mind processed what he had seen. He reached out his arms and pulled Ace towards him into a heartfelt hug. "Ace, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you."

She returned his embrace, feeling like relief and happiness personified.

"Doctor," Rory said to the Time Lord in tweed, "where's Amy?"

The Doctor remained silent. The Gallifreyan's face was enough to tell Rory something was wrong.

"Look, Doctor, I know what happened in the dream –the Professor told me… but where's Amy… here?"

No response.

Using Ace as support, the younger Doctor pulled himself up and stared at his future, who refused to look him in the eye. Ace felt him deflate slightly. "I can read you like a book, you know," he sighed. "Tell him the truth or I'll tell him for you."

The older Doctor turned round to face the young nurse and swallowed hard. Tears were starting to prick his eyes as he choked out two simple words: "I'm sorry."

Rory said nothing. Instead, he pushed past the Doctor and marched back into what was left of the palace's first floor. He wouldn't believe anything until he saw it with his own eyes.

"Amy?"

His pace quickened along with his heartbeat, which had now become a frantic drumroll.

"Amy?" More members of the Truth Legion lay broken and dismembered underneath the ruins of the ceiling. He stepped over them. He needed to find his wife.

After several year-long minutes of searching, that's exactly what he did.

A white hand – now like broken porcelain – protruded from the wreckage. Rory held it in his, the cold skin burning his hand. The tears came crashing like a wave against the cliff face that was his heart, forcing it to crumble into the tempestuous sea below. He let out a cry of misery and curled up as tightly as he could. He held his wife's hand to his cheek, as if it were going to wipe away the tears as they continued to cascade down. There was only one word he could manage to say – the only word that had ever mattered to him.

"Amy."

* * *

**I'm not trying to depress you all, I promise! I'll upload the next chapter as soon as I can. :) x**


	14. Chapter 14

oOoOo

(_Seven, Eleven and Ace_)

**Royal Palace Balcony, Paris, 1765**

"You killed her. You actually killed her." Time's Champion looked up at Time's manipulator, his face a painting of anger watered down with sheer disappointment.

"The Truth Legion killed her," the other replied quietly, "not me."

"If you truly cared for her life, you'd have used your magic wand."

The older Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and looked at it for a moment, wishing he could turn back time. He knew, however, that his TARDIS was nowhere around to help with that. Besides, Amy's entire life had consisted of intricate paradoxes. One more might shatter time like a hammer to an ice sculpture. He looked up again to see his younger self climbing onto the balcony ledge. "What do you think you're doing?"

His previous self pretended he hadn't heard. He also ignored Rory as he silently re-joined the small party on the balcony. "Ace," the Professor said, "could you come up here for a moment?"

Ace joined her mentor on the ledge. The Professor looked over the brink at the ground below. "How far up do you think we are?"

"High up enough to know it's not safe to look over the edge."

"Good."

"Good?!" his older self interjected. "What do you mean 'good'? What are you planning?"

"I had almost stopped plotting to kill you. I was about to give you the benefit of the doubt, seeing as it was all a dream, but after what you've just done, I'm not so sure that's the best action to take."

The Doctor stuffed his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket as two and two came together. His eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Look, I know what you're thinking. It's not a good idea."

"Isn't it? By killing you, I'd only prevent the future. If I die now – if I jump - your timeline will catch up with you and you'll never have existed. I'd prevent your past, present _and _future. Amy will be alive and whatever atrocity has been committed in my next incarnation will have never happened."

The older Doctor flinched at the reawakened memories.

"Don't think I don't know. The Valeyard's told me how much blood will be spilt."

"The_ Valeyard_? You trust the Valeyard over me?" The Doctor looked with sheer disgust and repulsion at the man he used to be – the man he was ashamed to have been.

"It makes no difference which one of you I trust. You're a spitting image of him."

That accusation hit hard. Silence fell, until, like most things, it was broken by Ace.

"Professor, you can't leave me! I need you…"

He turned round to face her and sighed. He smiled at her sadly, looking old and tired. "Oh, Ace," he said in hushed tones, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Professor?!" The Doctor turned round at the sound of his name (not his preferred one, but he had learnt to accept it). Ace – the other Ace – stood behind Rory, her bomber jacket powdered with rubble and a deep cut above her right eyebrow. Rory stared incredulously at the two identical young women. The older Doctor did the same.

"Ace," the latter said, "you're not…"

"Dead? Course not. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"But…"

"We both lived, alright? I misjudged the size of the explosion I'd need."

It seemed, the Doctor thought, that it would take an apocalypse to stop Ace McShane. He wasn't even sure if _that_ would manage it. "But you're both dressed the same now. One of you isn't the real Ace. Which one of you changed clothes?"

"Professor, you _know_ I'm real!" the Ace on the ledge exclaimed, looking panicked.

"I know, Ace. I know." The younger Doctor tweaked her nose affectionately before turning back to stare coldly her double. "It's _that_ I'm concerned about."

The older Doctor suddenly interjected, seething with anger. "I don't know what twisted chess game you're playing, but you can't hurt Ace again, not like that."

"She's not Ace."

The Ace on the ledge was next to speak. "Professor, what am I supposed to do? You can't just leave me here! You're the only real family I've got. You can't _die_..."

He turned back to face her, looking directly into her eyes. "I never said I was going to leave you." In movements so rapid they appeared simultaneous, the Doctor grabbed hold of Ace's wrist and flung himself over the edge, pulling her with him. Her scream tore through the air for just over a second before it was cut short by a loud thud.

"NO!" the other Time Lord sprinted to the ledge and leaned over. Rory did the same. Only one body lay shattered on the ground below – the Professor's. Ace's was gone. Both men were too shocked to pay much attention to that fact. "Well that's that," the Doctor whispered, too stunned to speak any louder. "I'm dead."

"Professor?!" Ace ran to the ledge in tears, but was caught by the Doctor before she could lean over the edge. He pulled her in towards him, letting her cry into his jacket.

"Don't look, Ace. Don't look."

"He'll regenerate… won't he?" she said between sobs.

The Doctor shook his head. "Not if he resists the regenerative process, which no doubt he will."

"What happens now then?"

"I wait for my timeline to catch up with me." He smiled sadly. "I fade away."

Ace was sobbing violently into his chest, crying out her crushed heart. After several minutes, her breathing slowed and her initial pain subsided. She had calmed down slightly, but was still trembling and her head was pounding. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Ace?"

"Why did he take me with him?"

"She wasn't real."

"He _thought_ she was."

The Doctor didn't reply.

"Doctor?" Rory's voice helped to ease the tension.

"Rory, now's not the time..."

"Doctor!"

"What?"

Rory pointed a finger at the door. The Doctor looked in the same direction, where his gaze rested on a black metal soldier. "Oh."

The figure stepped forward with its laser held parallel to the ground, pointing at the terrified trio.

"Rory, where's your silver platter?" the Doctor stuttered.

"Where I left it."

"Which is…?"

"In the garden."

"You litterbug."

"Sorry. I was a bit preoccupied."

"Fat lot of use that is."

"Sorry."

"Doctor, have you got a plan or what?" Ace interjected, ready to wage war on the Truth Legion if necessary.

"You two run. I'll handle this." The Doctor pulled out his sonic.

"But Doctor, you can't…"

"I'm dead anyway. I might as well achieve something useful, now go!"

"We're not leaving you!" cried Rory, ducking as a green bolt of energy cracked across the empty space above him where his head had been.

"You don't understand!" replied the Doctor, weaving between short bursts of laser fire. "I can't let you both… wait… no… OH!"

"Finally, you're seeing sense," said Ace. By now she had darted round behind the officer, trying unsuccessfully to take out its laser.

"No no no! Can't you see?! Oh, I'm clever…"

"Care to enlighten us?" Rory yelled, struggling to make himself heard over the cracks and booms of lasers destroying rock.

"What's going on, Doctor?" Ace was grabbing on to the officer's arm, causing the laser to fire in all sorts of dangerous directions as it struggled to aim.

"My memories have caught up with me."

"What does that even mean?"

"This whole event is a paradox, remember? Time takes relative time to rewrite itself. It's patched up the paradox. This event is now part of my time-stream…

"You mean you've got all the Professor's memories now?" cried Ace.

"Exactly! Well… not quite. There's still a delay. My most recent memory as the Professor was what happened here about…" he checked his watch, "seven minutes ago."

"So what happens now?"

The Doctor cursed under his breath as his sonic screwdriver was knocked flying from his hand off the edge of the balcony by a laser bolt. A second attack seconds later brought him back to the matter in hand. "Ace! Rory! Grab my hands!"

_More like the matter in _hands_, then, _he thought.

His companions obeyed. Ace grabbed his right hand; Rory grabbed his left. "Doctor, what are we doing?" asked the latter warily.

"Parachuting… only without a parachute."

"I don't think I like the sound of this…"

"GERONIMO!" The Doctor took a running dive headfirst off the ledge, dragging his two companions along behind him. The three adventurers screamed as they fell with increasing velocity towards the ground.

Then the world went black.

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Yowza."

He really needed to stop saying that.

The Doctor sat up and winced at the pounding in his head. The reason behind this inconvenient discomfort was clear to him. The Dream Lord had explained it to him many years ago when he'd cracked his head on a pillar and blacked out. Ah yes, it was all coming back to him…

His memories were still delayed of course. His younger self's present (relatively speaking) wouldn't come to him for a good seven minutes or so (again, relatively speaking - timey wimey indeed!) but now he understood his own motives – what had driven him to drag Ace with him off that balcony, among other things…

"Doctor?"

Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Ace." Ace stumbled over to him from the other end of the corridor, where she had emerged from Amy's room, followed by the ginger herself. "Hello again, Amy."

"Hey, you," she replied. "What's going on? My head hurts."

"Don't expect he'll tell us," retorted Ace. "The Professor never shares anything."

The Doctor surprised her by gesturing the two girls to sit with him against the wall. "Paris was a dream," he explained. "This world is real."

"We gathered that," replied the redhead. "But then… why was the Dream Lord here?"

"He wasn't."

"Yes he was. We saw him."

"Not quite."

"Are you saying there are two Dream Lords?"

"Not quite."

"Care to explain?" Amy sighed, not wanting to get left behind.

"According to the Master…"

"Because he's oh so trustworthy," Ace interrupted sarcastically.

"Let me finish." The Doctor's authoritative tone temporarily silenced the teenager. "According to the Master, between my twelfth and thirteenth regenerations, my… dark side will somehow become a physical manifestation."

"Basically the Dream Lord then."

"Not quite. Please stop interrupting…"

"Is that all you can say? 'Not quite'?"

"Shhh!" The Doctor sighed, currently feeling like a long-suffering father with two young and rebellious daughters. "The Dream Lord isn't a physical manifestation. The other one – the Valeyard – is, but he was trapped in the Matrix long enough for him to pick up dreamlike traits, such as shape shifting."

"How do you know all this?" Ace asked.

"Because my seventh self worked it out seven minutes ago," the Doctor replied, smiling at his young student. "Relatively speaking," he added.

"So, what you're saying is the Valeyard somehow morphed into the Dream Lord to trick us into thinking this was a dream?"

"Well done, Pond."

"But… that doesn't explain why the Dream Lord wasn't in Paris."

"He _was_."

"Then where was he?"

The Doctor turned to Ace and grinned. Her eyes widened. "Oi, are you implying that…?"

"The Dream Lord was you… the _other_ you. He's not a physical entity. He can change his form as he pleases."

"But why?"

"To spy on us. He wanted to see what we were up to without being seen himself. He can only exist in dream worlds, so his presence in his more familiar form would have given the game away."

"So he was the one who made your other self think I was dead?" asked Amy.

"Yes. And the one who danced with me."

Ace smirked. "Well that should have been a giveaway in itself."

"I'll have you know I'm a brilliant dancing partner!" the Time Lord said, feigning hurt. He shook his head to get back on topic. "I knew from the offset which one of you was real," he continued. "I wasn't a bad telepath in those days. I could tell the Dream Lord was there."

"Is that why the Professor… I mean… _you…_ jumped with Ace… I mean… the Dream Lord…off the balcony? To get rid of him? "

The Doctor smiled at his ginger companion. "Yes, partially. I destroyed the Dream Lord in his own world, breaking the link between us and the Dream Lord's partner in crime."

"The Valeyard?"

"Precisely."

"But what's the point in all this?"

"It was all a distraction."

"Distraction from what?"

"Ace, Amy," he said, pulling the two girls closer towards him, "have you noticed anything strange about our current predicament?"

"Rory's not here," replied Amy.

"Or the Professor," Ace added. "You don't think he's taken them, do you?"

"I do indeed," said the Doctor. "I don't know about you, but I think a rescue mission might be in order."

* * *

**If this chapter's a bit too complicated, I apologise. There was an awful lot to squeeze in!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I really appreciate it. :D x**


	15. Chapter 15

oOoOo

(_Seven and Rory_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000**

_*Rat-a-tat tat*_

Rory woke up to an irritating tapping sound, rousing him from his slumber like a tuneless alarm clock. As the waking world grew ever closer, the tapping grew louder.

_*Rat-a-tat tat*_

He listened to it for a moment. It wasn't tapping. It sounded like…

_*Rat-a-tat tat rat-a-rat-a-tat tat*_

He sat up groggily and looked to his right, where the Professor was calmly clapping two spoons together between his hand and his knee… and his elbow… and his shoes… and wherever else he fancied, really, as if he were juggling with them.

Or, as Rory thought, showing off.

"Don't you know any other tunes?"

The Doctor's lips curled upwards into a faint smile, mildly amused. "Do you play an instrument, Rory?"

Rory sat up. "I taught myself guitar when I was younger – not that I was any good at it," he said, shuffling next to the eccentric spoon-player.

"Nonsense. One day we shall have to form an ensemble." The Doctor began clapping his spoons again, much more vigorously this time.

Rory placed a hand on the Doctor's knee, trapping the spoons there and thus giving his headache a chance to die down. "No thanks."

"Are you sure? It would certainly help to pass the time in here."

For the first time since waking up, Rory contemplated where 'here' was. It was a prison cell, he decided. The three walls and the floor were antiseptic white, but were contaminated by the lack of light, making them look a dull grey. Apart from its two occupants, the cell was empty. Stubborn metal bars stood where the fourth wall should have been, beyond which was an equally dark corridor. The dim lights on the other side of the bars were flickering, as if they were coughing and spluttering their final breaths. Besides the Professor's breathing and the distant humming of a generator, the whole place was as quiet as death.

"We were kidnapped from the TARDIS," the Doctor said, saving Rory the trouble of asking the question. "At least, _I_ was. I believe you were taken before I arrived. I never saw you in the real world – until now, that is."

"The real world? That's Paris, right?"

"No."

"No? So, where you killed Ace… and yourself… and tried to kill the Doctor… who killed Amy… none of that really happened?"

"It's complicated. I'll explain later."

"We're trapped. We have all the time in the world. You have time to explain it now."

"Then I also have time to explain it later."

Rory stopped, picking up on the fact that the Professor obviously wasn't willing to talk about it. He decided to change the topic. "Do you know where everyone else is, then?"

"Ace and the Doctor are probably on the TARDIS, but are no doubt going to track us down and try to carry out an absurd rescue mission." His hands were clenched tightly into fists. His feelings toward the Doctor evidently remained unchanged.

"And Amy?" Rory caught his words and fell silent. He'd forgotten. "Professor?"

"Doctor."

Rory was caught off-guard. "Sorry?"

"I'm not the Professor. I'm the Doctor."

"So it's… _Doctor_ Forgeron?"

The Doctor sighed at Rory's incompetence and hit him sharply round the back of the head with his spoons.

"Ow!"

"I'm not _a_ Doctor, you fool. I'm _the_ Doctor!"

Rory opened his mouth and then closed it again, much like a goldfish. "_The _Doctor? Definite article?"

"Most definitely."

"But…"

"I didn't think it was that difficult to infer. There have been enough clues." He leaned back slightly as Rory leaned forward and looked into his eyes in sheer fascination.

"Which one are you?"

"We're all the same person, Rory. I can't label myself as a separate individual, as much as I'd like to at times."

"I know that, but which…?" Struggling for the right word, Rory waved his arms around to indicate the Doctor's physical form.

"Seventh."

"Interesting."

"How so?"

"The Doctor went to Skaro recently. I read up on its history afterwards."

"I see." The Doctor's quiet remark was followed by an odd silence.

"So," continued Rory. "What do we do now?"

"We wait," the Doctor replied, standing up and striding towards the bars. He grasped the cold metal in his hand.

"For the Doctor? The other one?"

The Time Lord smiled. "Not quite."

Rory wasn't a fan of cryptic responses. His attempts at deciphering were interrupted by a sinister crescendo of footsteps. The Doctor stepped back as the bars slid upwards into the ceiling and a figure robed in black stepped within his line of sight.

This was his chance.

Rory leapt to his feet, pushed past the stranger and bolted down the corridor without looking back, letting his feet propel him forwards. _This Doctor can do without me_, he thought to himself. _I've got to find the others._

The Doctor watched Rory as he ran. He turned to the Valeyard. "You're not going to stop him?"

"I don't need to."

This unnerved the Doctor, though he didn't show it. If Rory wasn't needed in the Valeyard's master-plan, then his capture must have been out of pure malice. Alternatively, it meant that something else was out there to do the job for him, which was equally worrying. His trail of thought was disrupted as the Valeyard flickered and contorted before returning to his original shape.

"It's the Matrix, isn't it. It's done something to you."

"Hardly a difficult deduction…"

"You've been trapped in there too long, I'll bet," the Doctor continued, "Your physical form and the memory-like qualities of the Matrix became jumbled when you escaped, that's it, isn't it?"

"Ever the problem solver, aren't you."

The Doctor paused. "What do you want me for? Why did you bring me here?"

"My dear Doctor," the Valeyard replied. He addressed his former self by his chosen title not through courtesy, but to remind himself of how hypocritical he was. Doctors were supposed to save lives as opposed to destroy them, even if they did cover up their mistakes with quirky idiosyncrasies. "Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?"

"You've spoilt most things already. I don't see why this occasion should be exempt."

"You know full well that most things were spoilt by you even before you became me."

"Eighth incarnation onwards, yes, I believe so."

"Scaro? Fenric? Do they not count?"

"I had no choice. You know that."

"You needed to destroy her faith in you, I understand, but I don't believe it's the done thing for the white knight to make the damsel cry." The Valeyard's lips twisted upwards into a forbidding smile. He had put the Doctor on the spot and he knew it.

"I had no choice." His voice had dropped to a low growl.

"I'm sure your eleventh self would disagree. He managed the same thing with much less broken heart to sweep up afterwards."

"I refuse to look up to my eleventh self, just like I refuse to look up to you."

"So it seems. On a physical level though, in both cases, it seems you have no choice." The Valeyard smiled maliciously down at the Doctor before patting him patronisingly on the head.

"You don't seem like the type to joke about one's height," the Doctor snapped, swiping his hand away.

The Valeyard ignored him. "Come, Doctor. We have work to do."

.

* * *

**Happy Doctor Who Day, everyone! :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the wait, guys. I've had exams and an extreme case of writer's block.**

**Also, I've never actually seen **_**Trial of a Time Lord**_** (as much as I REALLY want to), so if anything I write here contradicts something in the serial, please tell me. :) x**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Rory_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

Rory's lungs were burning up inside his chest by the time he came to a halt. He slumped against the main wall of the passageway and slid down it, exhausted.

He had escaped. Now was time to come up with a plan of action:

1) Find _his _Doctor and Ace.

2) Rescue the other Doctor.

_Easier said than done,_ he thought.

"Excuse me?"

The sound of a child's voice captured Rory's attention. "Yes?" he replied. He turned round to see a little girl, no older than about seven, curled up against a door further down the corridor. Her walnut-coloured hair was tied back in a sky blue ribbon which matched the colour of her dress.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked.

Rory blinked. What was a little girl doing on a space station? "No, but I am a nurse."

"Will you help my brother? He's really sick."

"I'll come back later. I've got something really important to do right now."

The girl stared back at him beseechingly. "_Please_," she said. Her voice cracked and she rubbed her eyes to hold back tears. "He might _die_. He's only five."

Rory took a sharp intake of breath through his teeth like a reversed whistle and switched his gaze indecisively for several seconds between the girl and the empty corridor ahead. "Fine," he said, turning back to the infant. "I'll see if I can help him. Where is he?"

"Through here," she replied, indicating towards a door behind her. "I have the key, but the lock's too high up for me to reach." She held out a large metal key and dropped it in Rory's open hand. He held it closer to inspect it. Indented into the metal was a small seal.

"I've read about this," he said, fingering the tiny engraving. "The Seal of Rassilon, isn't it?"

"Hurry!" the girl said, ignoring his question and pulling Rory by his shirt towards the door.

"Alright, alright," he said, turning the key in the lock. "I'll try and help your brother, I promise."

The door swung open. After handing the key back to the little girl, Rory stepped through it. There was no one there.

"Where did you say your brother was?" he asked. The reply was a reverberating clang as the door was slammed shut behind him. He whirled round and hammered on it. "Hello? Are you still there? Could you open the door?!"

Childish laughter could be heard from the other side. Rory listened in horror as its pitch plunged downwards and its innocence was shed, becoming a malevolent chuckle Rory wished he didn't recognise.

"Dream Lord! Let me out!"

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" the Dream Lord replied. Rory heard his footsteps walking away. "Sweet dreams, Mr Pond. Sweet dreams."

Rory sighed in despair as the world around him. Wherever it was, he knew that had been no ordinary door…

.

oOoOo

(_Eleven, Amy and Ace_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"What's the plan, Doc?"

The time travelling trio were back in the TARDIS console room. Ace and Amy clung with anticipation to the railings, obviously expecting it to be a bumpy ride.

"I don't know about Rory. The trace has faded completely, but I can track Other Me down if I can replicate the co-ordinates from the teleport."

"You can do that?"

"I can do almost anything, me," the Doctor said proudly, straightening his bow tie before tapping vigorously at the console typewriter keyboard.

"True," Amy replied, "but it's mostly useless things." She and Ace shared a knowing smile. "So wherever they've taken Other You, Rory will be there too?"

"With any luck, yes," retorted the Doctor, pressing one final button. "Aha!"

"You've got them?" Ace stood next to the Time Lord, watching a long stream of numbers as they scurried across the screen. "Blimey."

"Do you want me to pull the lever, Doctor?" Amy stood poised and ready by the Doctor's favourite feature of the console.

"Not yet," he replied, his fingers a blur over the keys as his eyes flitted between his hands and the screen. "Just making a few adjustments to the co-ordinates. He might not have moved since he teleported and quite frankly I don't want to end up possibly squishing myself with a police box. Awfully messy."

"You know," said Amy, striding over to join the others, "I think all those silly things you do are just for show. You really are_ very_ good with numbers."

"Thank you, Pond."

"You're welcome."

Ace watched the banter unfold with a small smile. She liked this Doctor. He didn't seem like one to juggle with planets or play chess with people who were unknowingly acting as the pawns. This one seemed more likely to get excited over a simple game of snakes and ladders or charades. Then again, he'd never replace her manipulative little bastard. Not in her heart, anyway.

"What's our destination, then?" the ginger asked.

"We are off to…" he turned a dial on the side of the screen, changing the display settings. "Space Station Zenobia... Well isn't that interesting."

"Why? What's Space Station Zenobia?"

"I went on trial here, back when I was…" He tried counting his age on his fingers, but to no avail. "…much younger. Lots of complicated shenanigans."

"Legal shenanigans?"

"Some of them."

"Involving the Valeyard?"

"A fair number of them, yes."

"Well then," Amy said, grabbing the lever. "Geronimo?"

The Doctor placed his hand over hers. Ace did the same. "Geronimo."

They pulled the lever sharply backwards, letting the TARDIS cascade down the endless river of time and space towards Space Station Zenobia...

.

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Valeyard_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"You remember trapping me in the Matrix, don't you, Doctor," the Valeyard said. The Doctor sat restrained in a cold metal chair, his wrists and ankles cuffed to its arms and legs respectively.

"How could I possibly forget," the Doctor replied flatly, flinching as his alter-ego removed his hat and replaced it with a wired up headset. "I take it you want me to go in there and rescue your younger self?"

"'Rescue' is a poor choice of word. It makes me sound like I need you."

"Don't you?"

The Valeyard smiled. _That's the Doctor – the most pretentious being in the cosmos._ Although he knew the Doctor's ostentatiousness fuelled his dark side and self-loathing, the Valeyard was glad he didn't share the same trait. He wanted to distinguish himself from his alter-ego as much as possible. "I don't need you. I just require you."

"Same thing."

"At a basic level, yes, but you know as well as I do that one must look deeper into the connotations of words to recognise their true meaning."

"Don't give me that. I don't care what you need me to do – or even what you _require_ me to do. I'll play no part in it."

The Valeyard stepped back and looked up at the jumbled mess of metal and plastic arranged in untidy order above the Doctor's head. The Doctor followed his gaze and assessed the complex contraption.

"You've tampered with the Matrix..."

"Not the computer itself, Doctor -only the connection between you and it."

The Doctor traced with his eyes the red wire running between the main computer and his headset. It took him several moments to realise what it was for. "Ah."

The Valeyard tutted quietly. He knew he had occasionally been quite slow on the uptake back when he had… disappointingly… _morals, _but he was surprised to see the same flaw in his seventh incarnation. "You've figured it out now, then."

"Yes," The Doctor tilted his head back down to face the Valeyard, "but I'm sure you'll explain the whole plan anyway."

"I'm no stereotypical villain, Doctor, just like you're no stereotypical hero."

"Funny how your freedom requires my captivity." The Doctor tested his manacles to further express his point.

"It is rather amusing, I'll admit," the Valeyard said, although his facial expression didn't show it.

"It won't work, you know."

"What won't?"

"I assume by the position of the wire in the headset that your intent is to tap into a certain part of my brain – the part that deals with emotions."

"Correct."

"And judging by the connection of the other end of the wire and the polarity of the circuit, you want to extract my emotions…"

The Valeyard was fiddling with a mess of smaller wires round the back of the machine, but was still listening out of curiosity. "Continue."

"… specifically my dark emotions. You want to use my dark emotions in the Matrix like a magnet to pull yourself back into the real world."

"In essence, yes."

"It won't work because I'm not dark enough. I haven't got enough dark energy in me to get you out."

"I've been watching you, Doctor. I know you're lying."

The Doctor remained silent, allowing the Valeyard to continue. "You know your eleventh regeneration murdered his companion in both worlds. You know how much you despise him. I _saw_ how much you despise him - through the Dream Lord, of course."

The Doctor bowed his head, conceding defeat. "You're right," he muttered.

"Are you willing to co-operate?"

"I have no choice."

The Valeyard knew the Doctor hated himself for this. Lustful murder wasn't really his style. Oh well – the more self-loathing, the higher the probability of success. He flicked a switch; the process began…

.

oOoOo

(_Eleven, Amy and Ace_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

Still wheezing after its trip through the vortex, the TARDIS juddered to a halt.

"Oh dear." The Doctor flicked a few switches and fanned away smoke (which was escaping from the central column) with his hand.

"What do you mean 'oh dear'? What just happened?" Amy pulled herself to her feet and checked the display monitor.

"It made a funny noise," the Doctor replied.

"The TARDIS always makes that noise, Professor," Ace chirped in, eager to be part of the conversation.

"No no no… it was different. It was more of a…" The Doctor mimicked the sound of the TARDIS with his voice. "Something's up." He joined Amy at the screen and fiddled with one of the dials again. "We're not on board Zenobia," he said. "We're outside time again."

Ace sighed. "So what are we going to-?"

Her query was interrupted as the Doctor winced and curled over the console in a brief flash of pain.

"Doctor, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he replied, allowing his headache to die down a little before continuing. "Time just slipped back into place again. My memories are now exactly synchronised with the Professor's."

Amy and Ace's expressions indicated they needed further explanation.

"Time is being rewritten. It has been since we all met up in Area Z." The girls nodded. They already understood that part. "Look at it this way: as my younger self, it's whatever the Professor does that determines how things work out. Pretend he's writing a book. A few minutes ago, I was receiving the manuscript seven minutes – relative time – after he wrote it. Now it's like…"

"…you're looking over his shoulder as he writes it. You know what he's doing right now."

"Exactly, Ace," the Time Lord replied. "Relatively speaking, of course."

"Of course."

"So where is he?" Amy asked.

"Right now?" The Doctor paused. "In deep trouble."


	17. Chapter 17

oOoOo

(_Eleven, Amy and Ace_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"How can we find the Professor if we don't even know where we are?" Ace exclaimed.

"I know where we are," the Doctor replied. "There's only one place we can be." To see if his suspicions were correct, he jogged to the door and opened it. Ace and Amy attempted to walk past him, but were blocked by his body in the doorway. "Go back to the console," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Now."

"Why? What's out there?"

"It doesn't matter. We're leaving."

Ace ignored him and ducked under his arm, passing through the Doctor's blockade.

"Ace, come back!"

The world in which the teenager now found herself was more haunting than anywhere she'd ever been, yet it seemed strangely familiar. A light throbbed on the console like a muted alarm, illuminating stone faces carved into the walls – twelve of them. Their mouths were stretched monstrously open, silently screaming at her to turn back. Behind her, the Doctor was sending the same signal. It was at that moment that Amy also chose to ignore him and pushed past the apprehensive Time Lord.

"Amy! Ace! Get back! You don't understand!"

"Doctor," the redhead said, focusing on one of the stone faces. "Is this you?"

"Ignore them, Amy. Don't look," the Doctor said, rushing over to her and forcefully pushing her away from the hideous faces and back towards the TARDIS. "Ace, come on. We're leaving."

"But Professor… this one's you too…" Ace was staring into the eyes of her tutor, which were staring back angrily like stone daggers. She shuddered, pulled her eyes away from it and looked at the others.

"Ace, you've got to listen to me…"

"They're _all_ you, Doctor," she said, examining each stone face in turn. "If the seventh one along is the Professor – and the eleventh one is you -" Her gaze shifted to the final face, "then this must be your..."

The Doctor ran over to her and grabbed her, blocking her view of his immediate successor. "Ace, this is the Valeyard's TARDIS. It's dangerous. We've got to go."

Ace nodded and turned back to the Doctor's TARDIS to find her path blocked by the Dream Lord.

"Hello again, Miss Doolittle," he said, grinning.

"Who is she? Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked, stepping backwards. She felt the Doctor rest his hands on her shoulders. They gripped her tightly, making her feel more secure, but Ace wondered if it was more for his benefit than hers.

"He's likening you to a fictional character, Ace. Just ignore him," the Doctor murmured.

"Ignore me? How rude." The Dream Lord strolled with his arms crossed towards the centre console. He leaned backwards on it and gestured towards the thirteen warped and furious faces. "Then again, you never were a very polite person, were you, Doctor."

The Doctor bundled Ace into the TARDIS and locked the door. Whatever the Dream Lord had to say, she didn't need to hear it. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an amalgamation of everything you hate about yourself. Who else am I supposed to torment?"

"There's no need to torment my friends."

"It's a way to torment you."

The Doctor hesitated briefly, before deciding to take the conversation down a different route. "You shouldn't even be here. This isn't one of your worlds."

"You sound incredibly sure about that," the Dream Lord replied. He remained silent for a moment, only continuing when he could see that the Doctor wasn't about to change his mind. "But you're right, of course. This world is real. I'm sure you can work out how I can exist here if you put your mind to it – now run along and play the superhero," he said, waving a hand at the TARDIS. He paused for a moment, a finger pointing limply at the ceiling, indicating that he had an idea. "Oh no – let's not do that. Let's see how well you've trained your sidekicks."

The Dream Lord snapped his fingers and the Doctor's TARDIS spluttered into life, forced through a slit in space, back into the spiralling vortex of time. "NO!" The Doctor ran to it as it disappeared, only to be greeted by an empty space and unwanted silence where the grinding noise of his time machine and the cries of his companions had once been. He turned back to find the Dream Lord had also disappeared.

Spurred into life by the risen stakes, the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and set its tip aglow, the dissipated green light merging with the white pulsating one from the console. He spoke his thoughts aloud like a soliloquy as he read the readings. "Minimal concentration of psychic pollen… this makes no sense… think, think, think!" He brought his palm to his head with every syllable as if trying to kick-start his brain. "This _isn't_ a dream… it can't be… the Valeyard wouldn't bother freeing himself from a dream Matrix… AHA! Not enough pollen to create a dream world, but enough to create a semi-physical Dream Lord! Very clever…" He pivoted on his heels and dashed to the console. "He'll have wanted to get everyone together, so Ace and Amy must be…" He bashed a bout of characters into the keyboard – co-ordinates, "…on Space Station Zenobia!" He pulled the lever to the right with the gusto and determination that only the Doctor could have…

Nothing happened.

He released a growl of frustration and tried again. Nothing.

A flash of text on the monitor caught his eye.

_UNAUTHORISED PILOT. ACCESS DENIED._

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Valeyard_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2, 000,000,000**

The Doctor sat in his chair as slumped as his restraints would allow him to be. He could feel his darkest thoughts and feelings being drained from his head as if they were his own blood. The machine above his head released flurries of orchestrated clicks and buzzes over a consistent digital drone. The computer gorged on the foulest fruits of his mind, only occasionally swallowing something inedible – such as memories – and spitting them out, stuffing them back into the Time Lord's head.

After being swirled around in the Matrix's mouth, some entries in the Doctor's memory bank came back altered: in the shadows of Totter's Lane; hidden in the ranks at UNIT headquarters; among the team of scientists on Skaro; living life in the kaleidoscopic city of Castrovalva…

One figure drifted from memory to memory, as if he were burning through pages of a book. The Doctor pinpointed his mental strength on the figure, and he slowly came into focus…

It was a young man – no older than thirty – wearing a red checked shirt, jeans and a navy jacket.

_Oh._

Rory was fading in and out of the Doctor's mind, brushing past the thoughts he treasured and the ones he'd rather forget. He looked lost. Alone. Afraid. He was trapped in the Matrix.

oOoOo

(_Rory_)

**The Matrix**

A purple stormcloud was sweeping across the flashing skyline. Thunder roared as rocks were churned up into powder by laser fire.

Rory ran as fast as could, the sounds of mechanical shrieks disappearing into the distance. He knew that shriek too well. The Asylum was too fresh in his mind.

He looked up again and saw the home planet of the Daleks ablaze – its inhabitants screaming and dying, promising revenge to the one who caused it all. Rory could see that cause as he ambled over a distant hill with cold insensitivity and his new companion under his wing.

Suddenly, that coldness collided with fire and fury, producing a mighty clap of thunder. The shockwave knocked Rory down, leaving him kneeling on a plane slab of glass. His reflection morphed into the robed figure from earlier, who laughed at him antagonistically. In a desperate attempt to regain his sanity, Rory clamped his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

When he opened them again, the world had turned dark. Not far ahead of him, he could see the haunting light of the TARDIS, which brought him in like a moth to a flame. A man and a woman stood outside it, feeling the vibrations through the woodwork. Out of the corner of his eye, Rory could see an old man moving closer…

Then the world morphed again…

Gun fire shattered the eerie silence of the junkyard, filling it with the sounds of Earth weaponry as they tried their best against an oncoming invasion. He saw an enigmatic man in a cape calling for an end to the senseless violence…

Then the world morphed again…

Daleks surrounded the group of Kaled scientists on the base, their lasers set for execution. The wide-eyed man had tried to help, but by now all hope was gone. A bolt hit him squarely in the chest. He screamed…

Then the world morphed again…

An infinite number of streets and walkways – all the same. He ran in blind panic, feeling like a mouse dropped into a maze. He returned to the main square for what felt like the thousandth time to see an Edwardian batsman running towards what he thought was an exit. Little did he seem to know there was no way out.

The purple cloud lowered, enveloping Rory in a mist of horrific images and sounds. The nightmare was only just beginning…


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for the wait and short chapter length. I've been a bit busy lately. :)**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Ace and Amy_)

**The TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Ginger?"

"Yeah?"

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know."

It had been several minutes since the TARDIS had ground to a halt, and, as of yet, the exterior door had remained closed.

"We can't just charge out there into the firing line. We're up against a dark Doctor, after all." Ace strolled back over to Amy, who was pressing and flicking buttons and switches on the console at random. "What are you up to?"

"Trying to get the stupid screen to work," Amy said, hopping round to the other side of the console and tapping other keys. (One day, she'd get the Doctor to label them, or colour co-ordinate them –anything to make the silly machine more user-friendly.) Ace thumped the monitor hard, causing it to let out a yelp in the form of a rusty creaking noise and splutter back to life.

"That's how you do it."

Amy grinned. "Thanks. That's much better." She walked back to the monitor and stared at it, her finger to her chin. "I don't suppose you could use your technical expertise to get it to show a scan of the area?"

"I could blow up the circuitry," Ace replied, shrugging, "unless…"

"Unless?"

Ace strode around the console, her eyes surveying each and every button, toggle and switch. Eventually, her finger flicked a small white knob near the dials and gauges on the opposite side from the monitor. "I've been watching the Professor long enough to pick up a few things." The wall behind her hummed as it opened up to reveal a cinematic screen packed with numbers and diagrams.

"I… did not know that was there," Amy said, greatly impressed.

"Yeah, well, what's the point in staring at a pokey little computer monitor, eh?" Ace replied with a grin.

Amy turned her attention to the map in the centre of the huge screen. "So this is Space Station Zenobia… no sign of life, except… what's that purple smudge?" She pointed at a blur of colour – much like a forecast of a giant raincloud similar to the ones shown on ITV Weather, only purple… and wobbly.

"I don't know, but I'll bet you anything that's where the Professor is."

"Or the Valeyard."

"Or both," Ace retorted. "What do you say, Ginger? Save the Doctor and Rory, rid the universe of another source of ultimate evil and come back here in time for tea?"

"Sounds delightful."

Together, they charged for the doors, ready to face whatever challenge awaited them.

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Valeyard_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor's head was beginning to pound as more of its contents flowed up the wire. He didn't know how much more he had left to give. Not much, he imagined.

The Valeyard was beginning to flash terrifyingly into his altered memories. He'd vanish again just as quickly, but the gaps between his appearances were becoming shorter like contractions. He was getting closer… closer… closer…

The Doctor remained calm. He _had _to remain calm. His eyelids were sealed together, masking the fire and malevolence being extracted from behind them.

_Closer… closer….closer…_

His head continued to throb like a failing heartbeat, although, in this context, the Doctor thought of it more as an irregular countdown.

_Closer… closer… closer…_

oOoOo

(_Rory_)

**The Matrix**

_The world isn't real. None of this is real!_

But it wasn't a dream world. Rory knew that. The Dream Lord wouldn't create somewhere so blatantly surreal, but it couldn't be _real_…

His train of thought ground to a halt as the world mutated once more – this time into a rundown alleyway lit eerily by the glare of street lamps under the watchful eye of the moon, which waited intently for what was about to come.

Several young men – all Chinese, or at least Asian, Rory presumed - stood with guns at one end of the alley, except for one, who stood isolated and undefended at the other end, awaiting his death.

Rory remained hidden behind a barrel, silently watching, unable to help.

Suddenly, like a bizarre mechanical rendition of a heroic fanfare, the grinding sounds of the TARDIS ripped through the silence, followed by the police box itself, which formed a blue barrier between the frightened man and his aggressors.

Rory released a sigh of relief. _The Doctor would come to the rescue; everything would be fine; the man would be safe…_

The Doctor – the seventh – emerged from his ship.

The rifles cracked.

The Time Lord fell.

"DOCTOR!"

Rory dashed from his hiding place towards his friend. "Doctor, can you hear me?"

The Doctor didn't respond, despite still being conscious. After seeing that his attackers had fled, the other man emerged from behind the TARDIS and ran to the Doctor's side.

"Call an ambulance!" Rory commanded. "I'll look after him until it gets here."

The man seemed oblivious to Rory's presence.

"Hello?" Rory stepped back and assessed the scene. He was completely unnoticed… as if he were completely invisible…

The figure cloaked in shadow flashed for a second in the background, causing Rory to jump. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to find it had disappeared again.

* * *

**The inclusion of Seven's death will hopefully make more sense in several chapters' time. Just bear with me for now. :) x**


	19. Chapter 19

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**The Valeyard's TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Well that's just mean."

The error message on the screen continued to flash, as if constantly mocking him for his failure. He'd have thought the faces would do the same, were their contorted anger not set in stone.

He slumped against the base of the console, facing away from the twelve Doctors on the opposite wall. They weren't the memories he wanted of his past selves and, quite frankly, he didn't want his first impression of Doctor Twelve to be quite so negative.

Also, 'spoilers', as River would say.

He was never one to give up – that wasn't his style at all, and he took style very seriously. He absent-mindedly straightened his bow tie.

He wasn't giving up. He was just thinking, pondering, _planning_…

He released an audible sigh. He never planned things nowadays. His seventh self must be rubbing off on him. He didn't want to think about what _that_ could lead to…

Then again, his past self's gifts of ingenuity and insight could potentially be quite useful in this situation. What would his seventh self have done?

The coldness of the metal console was beginning to seep through into his neck. He leaned forwards, clasping his hands together under the base of his skull in an attempt to redistribute his body heat.

Rocking forwards and backwards, he nervously whistled to himself for several minutes, wondering what to do.

"Aha!" he cried suddenly, flipping himself over and turning to face the underbelly of the console. After releasing his hands from around his neck, the Doctor prized open the base of the control hub with his fingers. He flung the metal casing across the floor, letting the steely clang it created reverberate off the walls in a mild burst of energy. He toyed with the wires within, weaving the coloured plastics into new patterns and circuits. He'd do exactly what his seventh self would have done – tinker and tamper until the daft machine either started working or blew up.

That would work, wouldn't it?

oOoOo

(_Ace and Amy_)

**Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"I have a horrible feeling about this."

"Me too."

Everything was as silent as death, but from experience, both girls knew the dead didn't always stay dead.

Their fears became real when they heard a crisp buzz slice through the air, dissipating into an ominous hum.

Ace tensed. "What was that?"

Amy spun on her heels, looking upwards. "There!" she cried, pointing a painted fingernail at a surveillance camera in the corner, nestled stealthily between the ceiling, the wall and the doorframe. The camera buzzed again as it swivelled to stare at Amy directly in the eye. She lowered her arm and glared back defiantly.

"Amy, we've got to move!" Ace stood poised and ready to make a break for it, suddenly feeling once again like a fugitive on the run. She was practically bouncing on her toes as she grabbed Amy's wrist. Her voice diminished to a harsh whisper. "If we don't go now, they'll hunt us down!"

"Take it out first," the redhead replied. "We don't want it tracking us."

After releasing Amy's wrist, Ace fumbled around in her pockets and pulled out a white mass of…

"Plasticine?" Amy asked, altering her line of vision to look at the rubbery substance in Ace's hand.

"Don't be daft," came the reply. Ace gave the lump a final squeeze before flinging it at the camera. "RUN!"

Without quite understanding why, Amy followed her new friend's advice and legged it down the corridor away from the camera. A rush of heat hit her from behind like a fiery wave, sweeping her forwards.

"What was that?" Amy cried, turning back to see a hole in the wall surrounded by scorched black metal where the camera had once been fixed.

"All you need to know is that it's not Plasticine," Ace replied, smiling rebelliously, obviously proud of her actions.

"I can see that!" the ginger exclaimed. She coughed as the smoke from the explosion wafted down the corridor. She swept it away from her face with the back of her hand. "You've destroyed half the ship!"

Ace grinned. "Don't be such a drama queen. It's only a wall." She looked up. Her smile abruptly vanished. "Ginger…"

"What?"

"We're still not alone."

Amy followed Ace's gaze towards another surveillance camera. She looked down the corridor through which they'd just run. There were even more of them – one in every segment of the passage by the doors – all staring at them accusingly. "You got any more of that explosive stuff?" Amy asked. Her voice seemed to have crept up an octave. She hated being watched (by surveillance cameras, anyway – other cameras were fine).

"Fat lot of good that would do," Ace replied. "There're too many of them."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, we can't stay here!"

"Come on, then!" Amy grabbed her friend's hand and they started running again. They needed to get to the Doctor before something else got to _them_…

"Hurry up, Ginger!"

Despite her early burst of enthusiasm, Amy's energy levels after about five minutes had dwindled embarrassingly. She let go of Ace's hand before coming to a halt to catch her breath. She bent forwards, panting, her hands on her knees.

Ace stopped a little way ahead and turned round. "Come on, slowcoach! We've got to find the Doctor!"

"Well, I'm sorry," Amy replied, pausing for breath mid-sentence, "but it's been a while since I was… How old are you?"

"Nearly eighteen."

Amy raised her eyebrows. She could have sworn the girl was around twenty five. A faint whirring noise caught her attention. She looked up.

"LOOK OUT!"

Leaping into action, Amy pushed Ace backwards as a thick metal door slid swiftly down from the ceiling, separating the two of them.

Ace exhaled loudly, thankful that she wasn't lying squashed underneath the door. "Amy?"

"Ace? Are you okay."

"Yeah. I've got you to thank for that."

"No problem. Any chance you could use your Plasticine to blow a hole through the door?"

Ace rapped against the metal with her knuckles. She sighed, turned and slid down it into a sitting position. "Against whatever this metal is, it would be about as much use as a party popper."

She heard Amy release a long sigh from beyond the barrier. "I'll go back to the TARDIS and see if I can fly it into your section," she called. "Go ahead and try and find the Doctor."

Ace looked ahead. The corridor split into three separate passages in front of her. "Which way?"

Amy paused, trying to replicate the map of the ship in her mind. "Left, right, right, left, third right, right, second door on the left."

"Left, left, right, left, third right, right, second left…" Ace mumbled to herself. She raised her voice. "Got it! Good luck, Ginger!"

Amy heard the clomping of Ace's boots as she sped off down the passage. She stood up and started to wander back the way she'd come. She was startled to find her path blocked by a little girl dressed in blue.

"Oh, um… hello," she said, raising her hand in a friendly (if slightly awkward) wave before bending down to the child's eye level. "Are you lost?"

* * *

**For anyone confused by the Plasticine thing, Ace mentions in _Battlefield_ that she blew up the school art room with a type of explosive that looked like Plasticine (just in case anyone's not seen that episode). :)**

**Thanks for all the faves, follows and reviews, guys! :D x**


	20. Chapter 20

oOoOo

(_Amy (and the Dream Lord)_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Do you need any help?" Amy asked, edging closer towards the frozen child. "Are your parents around?"

The little girl didn't answer, but instead said, "I know where Rory is."

Amy's eyes widened slightly, revealing more of their green and hazel irises. "You do?"

"He's silly. He locked himself in the cupboard."

Amy raised her eyebrows, unsure if she was surprised or not. "Oh, really? Yeah, well, he can be a bit silly sometimes." She smiled as she mentally flicked through her memory scrapbook. _Okay then, _most_ of the time_. Her eyes turned back to the child. "Could you lead me to him?"

The little nodded and took Amy by the hand down the corridor.

"It doesn't look much like a cupboard," Amy said, suspiciously eying the elaborate door once they'd reached it.

The child handed her the key. "It's a magic cupboard – like the one that goes to Narnia."

_Ah, sweet childhood._ "And you saw Rory go in here?"

Another nod.

Twisting the key into the lock, Amy heard a loud 'chunk', which sent mild ripples through the surface of the metal, vibrating under the woman's touch. The girl held out her hand again, and Amy gave her back the key before entering the new world.

The door slammed behind her.

"Hello? Hello?! Are you still there? Hello?!"

On the other side of the Seventh Door, the little girl grinned and morphed into his original shape. He straightened his bow tie, much like the Doctor did. "Have fun in your little world of make-believe, Miss Pond," the Dream Lord called, loud enough for Amy to hear it.

"Dream Lord! What have you done with Rory?!"

"Oh, him? He's in there somewhere." She heard the Dream Lord's footsteps become softer as they moved further away. From down the corridor, his voice called, "San Francisco perhaps?"

Amy turned away from the door and marched into this uncharted new world. It may not have been Narnia, but if Rory was here, it still needed to be explored.

oOoOo

(_Ace_)

**Corridor 8A, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

_Left, left, right, left, third right, right, second left…_

She was sure she'd followed the instructions properly. Evidently not, seeing as there was no second door on the left. Unless…

She'd come to a wider section in the corridor. Its metal walls were shinier than they were in other parts of the ship, sparking memories of a hall of mirrors. There were, however, several notable differences. For example, Ace couldn't recall a hall of mirrors ever featuring an elaborate doorway quite like this.

Mind you, on closer inspection, 'elaborate' was hardly the word for it. The door itself was a dreary beige colour (although what it was made of she couldn't say – it certainly wasn't wood or metal) and the geometric archway draped over it was an equally dull grey. The series of steps that connected it to the floor followed the same colour scheme, making the whole entrance akin to that of a bank.

_Maybe this is the door Amy meant…_

Suddenly feeling like the hero in one of those films she watched as a kid, Ace burst through the double doors, sending them slamming into the walls. "Professor?"

All was silent. She froze. The room in which Ace now found herself was encased in shadow, but she could tell how large the space was by the reverberation of her voice. It was a pretty big room, she decided.

"Doctor?"

No reply.

"Obviously not the place then," she said aloud. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. As she wheeled round to leave, the twin doors slammed shut. "Oi!" she cried, slamming her hands against them. "Let me out!"

oOoOo

(_Rory_)

**The Matrix**

Rory sat leaning against the barrels, his hands and head between his knees. He'd watched the Doctor die – or get shot at least. He'd still been clinging on to life when the ambulance took him away.

"Rory!"

He looked up to see his wife edging towards him. "Rory, are you okay? What happened?"

He said nothing, but stood up and silently embraced her. They both closed their eyes, indulging in the company they hadn't had since dreams and simulated environments became the dish of the day.

When they opened their eyes again, San Francisco was gone.

"Rory, where are we?"

"I don't… really… know…"

"Helpful."

"_But_..." Rory said, raising a finger, happy to prove that he wasn't entirely useless. "I _do_ know that it's not real. Not a dream either, but some sort of… simulated environment."

Amy smiled. "You're becoming more like the Doctor every day." She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Yeah," Rory replied, "but after everything I've seen, I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

Amy chose not to reply to that. "So, what just happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," Rory replied sarcastically in an attempt to calm his own nerves. "I just watched the Doctor die."

Amy paused, taking it all in. "We've seen _our_ Doctor die before, only to find out he didn't. Besides, if this isn't the real world, it might not be true."

"I know, but… I couldn't get involved in it; I couldn't help; no one noticed me. It was as if I was an outsider watching a memory."

"_Our _Doctor's memories, then."

"Must be."

She paused, absorbing her new surroundings. "But… this can't be a simulated environment. I was here earlier."

The couple found themselves back on Zenobia, only in a wider section of a corridor cladded with reflective steel. "Unless…" Amy continued, her mind whirring. "The Doctor said he'd been here before. Maybe this is just another memory."

The two of them walked up a series of steps jutting out from the floor until they reached a large doorway. Rory went to knock on it before Amy clutched his hand and lowered it.

"If this is a memory, we don't need to knock, silly." They slowly opened the doors, the creaking of the hinges giving way to the booming voice of a lawyer – they were in a courtroom.

"I know him!" Rory whispered sharply, pointing at the prosecutor. "I saw him earlier. He took the other Doctor – the Professor – away. And I thought I saw him in San Francisco."

"Shhh!" Amy silenced him in order to listen to the trial:

"_He is also charged with, on doubtless occasions, transgressing the First Law_. _It is my unpleasant task, Madam Inquisitor, to prove to the inquiry that the Doctor is an incorrigible meddler in the affairs of other peoples and planets."_

"Sounds about right," Rory muttered. He didn't know what the First Law was, but they were spot on about the meddling.

"Forget that," Amy said, indicating towards the defendant's chair, "_He's_ the Doctor?!"

Rory looked at the accused man. His face was framed by blonde curls and he had the stage presence of a Shakespearean actor. All this, however, was drowned out by the orchestral explosion that was his costume, which looked like it had been stolen from Joseph.

Something sinister appeared in the corner of her eye. She spun round and gasped at the sight of the Valeyard, who then disappeared from view.

"Amy, what is it?" Rory asked, obviously concerned.

"I just saw the Valeyard again."

"But isn't that him there?" he replied, signifying towards the court prosecutor.

"It is, but the one I just saw isn't part of the memory. He's like us."

"Trying to escape the simulated reality?"

"Maybe."

Something else in the courtroom caught Rory's eye. "Amy, look!"

"What?"

Her husband pointed at a large screen. "That's the Matrix – a simulated reality used for storing memories and things. That must be where we are!"

"Rory Williams, you are a genius," she replied, pecking him on the cheek.

* * *

**Again, if anyone's confused, message me. I'm slowly starting to confuse _myself._ XD**

**Thanks for all the reviews and things. :) x**


	21. Chapter 21

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Valeyard_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Valeyard's eyes flitted to a nearby computer monitor, which was embellished with complicated readings from the Matrix. Some were lines and bars pulsating and oscillating to an improvised rhythm; others were numbers rapidly rising and falling; others were circular Gallifreyan symbols rotating into new shapes and words. They all indicated one thing:

The Doctor's dark energy output was decreasing.

How this had happened he couldn't say. He'd managed to convince the Doctor that his future self had murdered Amy Pond twice. The amount of self-hatred that produced should have been enough to keep his dark energy level at a suitable… well… level.

He looked over at the Doctor, who was slumped in his chair like a wilting sunflower tied to its stick in the soil. The connection reminded him of his adventure long ago with Amy and Vincent Van Gogh. He shut it out of his mind after labelling it as sentimental nonsense.

Turning back to the keyboard below the largest monitor in the room, he began tapping away at the letters and numbers which adorned it. His eyes occasionally flitted back towards the screen, and he took a sharp intake of breath each time he saw an increasingly disastrous reading.

Suddenly a red light flashed, accompanied by the wail of a siren.

"No!"

The computer readings screamed at him – an exponential crescendo of digital clamour until…

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**The Valeyard's TARDIS, Unknown Temporal Location**

"Yes!" the Doctor cried excitedly, after a reconnected wire (attached haphazardly with a bottle cap, a piece of string and a Werthers' toffee) sparked the machine into accepting his commands. He pranced with childish glee round the console, at odds with the twisted malevolence of the décor.

"Space Station Zenobia!" he exclaimed, pounding against the computer keys. "The year two zero zero zero zero…" He paused and counted momentarily on his fingers. "Zero zero zero zero zero zero!" He tugged at a lever and held on as the TARDIS tumbled through the vortex…

…

**The Valeyard's TARDIS, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor placed his hand against the exterior door of the time machine and slowly pushed it open to be greeted only by a thick cloud of smoke.

"Dear, oh dear." He swatted some of it away with the back of his hand and coughed as he breathed in the remainder. Stumbling out of the TARDIS and into the smoke, he turned back to examine its exterior – a stone sarcophagus which, like its interior, was ornamented with stone carvings of all the Doctor's faces.

"Goodness me, it's like a time-travelling stone scrapbook," the Time Lord muttered to himself. His mental wanderings stopped when he heard a cough from behind and saw a cloaked figure weaving through the smoke and heard the scuffle of shoes. He also saw the flash of the red umbrella handle.

"Well well well," said the Doctor, suppressing a laugh. "It looks like someone fried the technology."

The Valeyard made himself visible. "A slight flaw. That's all."

"A _slight flaw_?! You blew up the whole extractor mainframe!" he cried before coughing again.

"What did you do?"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Me? Which 'me' are we talking about?"

"You know the answer to that."

_Ah. He's further along than me in my personal timeline. His memories haven't caught up with him yet. _"He knew I didn't kill Amy, but managed to guess the general reason for your wanting him to think that, and therefore pretended to hate me for it, which caused you to overestimate the amount of dark energy he actually possessed."

"How very typical of him." The Valeyard turned his back on the Doctor

"Obviously not typical enough for you to foresee it."

"I foresaw enough, Doctor," he replied. "Enough to know that he'd try to trick me." The Valeyard whirled round and fired a plasma probe at his opponent. An ice-blue bolt of raw energy tore ferociously like a pack of wolves through the air until it came into contact with the Doctor's chest, sending him flying backwards. "With all your memories and guilt – mass genocide of the Time Lords and so on," the Valeyard continued, looming over the limp form of his past, "you're the perfect reserve."

Unseen by both, a surviving computer monitor was projecting the image from a surveillance camera – the image of the little man running down a corridor, clutching his hat and umbrella, and his paisley silk scarf fluttering out behind him.

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**The Matrix**

"Sooo…"

While Rory was proud of his brief flash of genius, he still had no idea what to do. The couple sat close together on the end of the jury bench, completely unseen by the rest of the court.

"How do we get out?" his wife asked.

"We need to find the door, I suppose."

"That's not exactly easy when the world around you keeps changing."

"Hmm."

There was a brief moment of silence as the Ponds individually planned their next move.

"It's at times like this when we need the Doctor," Rory sighed.

Amy suddenly stood up. One wouldn't have been surprised (as it _was_ a simulated reality) if a cartoon lightbulb had flashed above her head. "We _do_ have the Doctor!" she exclaimed. "Sort of."

Rory looked at the court defendant. "But he's part of the memory. He can't see us. Also, he looks rather busy."

"No, not him, stupid! The Valeyard! He's almost the Doctor and he's trying to escape the Matrix as well, right? So if he's as clever as the Doctor, he should be able to find his way out."

"So…" Rory sounded unsure of this plan of action. "We're going to follow him? _We're_ going to follow _the danger_…"

Amy answered his question with a decisive nod. "It's better than the danger following _us_. Let's go!" With that, she grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him out of the court room in search of the Valeyard.

oOoOo

(_Eleven and the Valeyard_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

It took a while for the Doctor to come to, but when he did, his senses flooded back rapidly. His head and chest ached with the splitting throb of his duel heartbeat. As light and colour returned to his vision, he could see the Valeyard several feet in front of him by the fried remains of the extractor, entwining several different coloured wires and connecting them back to the helmet.

"What are you doing?" he asked grittily. He tried to stand up and walk forward, but was sharply tugged back. He rotated his head to see his right wrist chained to the wall.

"I can fix the extractor, Doctor, with a little rewiring. It'll be ready for you within a few short hours."

"Oh, goodie," replied the Doctor sarcastically. The Valeyard ignored him. "Why did you let my seventh self go?"

"He was of no further use to me. I'm sure the Dream Lord will take care of him soon enough."

The Doctor thrust his free hand into his jacket pocket, only to find it empty.

"Looking for your sonic probe, Doctor?" the Valeyard sneered. He dropped the screwdriver on the floor and crushed it underfoot. The Doctor cringed as he heard it crunch. "I have more foresight than you think, Doctor. I woudn't just let you save yourself with your magic wand now, would I?"

The Doctor released a long sigh. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay. :S**

**I promise there will be more Seven and Ace action in the next chapter. :) x**


	22. Chapter 22

oOoOo

(_Ace_)

**Court Room, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

Ace sat curled up in the defendant's chair, her knees brought up tightly to her chest, as if it somehow protected her from the ever-circling shadow.

She felt alone – something she hadn't felt since… She tried not to think about it.

Feeling hopeless with no means of contact with the universe outside (None of her explosives managed to blow the door apart, unfortunately.); she began to hum to herself – not a particular song, but just an improvised and out-of-key melody. She couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, not that she'd ever tried. Then again, her idea of a racket might be considered a chart-topper to some other civilisation. She never knew. The haunting melody rung through the court room, filling every crevasse of silence and flowing through every surface willing to listen. The shadows sung along, menacing and mute.

Unexpectedly, the sound of her voice was joined by the opening and closing of another door, followed by the even rhythm of advancing footsteps. The lights slowly went up, illuminating the owner of said footsteps in an ominous white glow. He hung his umbrella from the crook of his elbow and repositioned his hat, which had managed to slip forwards to cover his eyes. He scanned the court room silently, twitching almost unnoticeably at the sight of all the surveillance cameras. Ace lowered her feet, leaned forward and smiled, recognising him instantly as her best friend.

"Doctor!" she cried with her voice full of relief. She was about to run to him, but was dismayed to find her affection was unreciprocated. The Doctor turned his back on her and began to walk away.

"Doctor!" she repeated.

"I'm not the Doctor," he replied. His voice was calm, but it contained an underlying sinister tone.

Ace stood up. "Who are you then?"

"Don't tell me all his little teachings have been for nothing. Use some initiative, girl."

A brief moment of silence gave way for the tension to rise. "You're the Dream Lord," Ace said accusingly.

"Very good," he replied, smiling, before striding towards the Matrix and removing the hatch underneath it.

"What are you doing?"

"That's none of your business," the Dream Lord Doctor snapped, before returning to his rewiring.

"If it's none of my business, can you let me go?"

He paused, assessing the options. A wire he had reconnected sparked the Matrix monitor into life. The blank screen burst into pixels light and colour which formed the shapes of Amy and Rory, as well as the simulated world around them.

"Doctor? Ace? Is that you?" Amy stared out at them from the screen, her hazel eyes and fiery hair twice as shocking at this large scale.

"Ginger!" Ace cried, jumping up and leaning forward over the railing. "Where are you?"

"We're in the Matrix," she replied. "The Dream Lord trapped us here."

Ace and the Dream Lord Doctor exchanged cold sideways glances.

"Doctor, do you know a way out?" Rory asked. The question was followed by a long silence. "Doctor?"

"He's not the Doctor," Ace replied. The enthusiasm and hope in her voice had plummeted. "He's the Dream Lord in a Doctor suit."

The recipient of Rory's enquiry refused to answer, but instead ripped out the wires, cutting off the power to the screen. Amy and Rory disappeared, and the courtroom returned to its dark and silent state. "I'm not in a 'Doctor suit'. I shape-shifted."

Ace crossed her arms. "Then shape-shift back," she demanded.

"No."

"Why not?"

He began to remove more wires from the computer – tugging out armfuls of them and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. "I know how much you care about him. It would hurt you more than anything to see someone you love being so cruel to you." His lips were tugged upwards into a spiteful smile.

"Yeah," Ace said, sitting back in the chair and resting her feet up on the railing, "but I _know_ you're not the Professor. You can't hurt me like that."

He turned his back on her again and crouched down by the pile of wiring. "You keep believing that. Now be quiet." He began to strip the wires of their plastic coating, which he then threw aside. The metal wire left was carefully placed in another pile by his feet.

"If you don't want me to bother you, open the door and let me out."

"No."

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**The Matrix**

The Zenobia court room had long since faded away, replaced by something that closely resembled a quarry, save for the exotic colour of the sky, which blushed and looked down benevolently at Amy and Rory in rosy majesty. They hadn't seen the Valeyard for quite some time, but occasionally caught shadowy glimpses of his robe, and they followed these like a breadcrumb trail.

"Rory, stop!" Amy cried, entwining her arm through his and pulling him back to where she was standing. In front of them was a rectangular window, like a portal, except there was no way of travelling through it. Through the window was the same courtroom they had been in earlier, only much emptier, with only two recognisable figures silhouetted. "Doctor? Ace? Is that you?"

They saw Ace leap from her chair and lean eagerly over the railing, asking about their whereabouts.

"We're in the Matrix," the red-head replied. "The Dream Lord trapped us here."

The pair in the window stayed quiet. Too quiet. This put Rory on edge.

"Doctor, do you know a way out?"

Silence.

Rory was slowly becoming more agitated. His teeth were clenched. "Doctor?"

"He's not the Doctor. He's the Dream Lord in a Doctor suit," came the reply. The Ponds simultaneously released a long sigh. Not another word was spoken before the window quickly vanished from view.

"What was that?" Amy asked, bewildered.

"Judging by the view we got of the courtroom, we were on that giant Matrix screen," her husband replied. "It's in the real world. At least we know Ace hasn't fallen for the same trick we have."

"I'll have you know I came here to rescue _you_," Amy replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, she's still not out of the woods yet. "If that's the Dream Lord in a Doctor suit…"

"He's not in a 'Doctor suit'," Rory replied, making quotation marks with his fingers. "He's shape-shifted."

Amy pouted. She liked the 'Doctor suit' idea better. It was much easier to imagine. "Fine, but either way, we've got to get out of here and help." She grabbed her partner's hand and the two of them continued their pursuit for the Valeyard across the hunched landscape.

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Valeyard had left to procure an essential component for the extractor. This was the Doctor's chance…

The key to his shackles were resting on a chair almost within touching distance of his feet. Maybe if he could…

Making himself as horizontal as he could be without tearing his arm from its socket, the Doctor stretched out a boot…

It couldn't quite hook around the chair leg and pull it closer. It was too far away. The Doctor stared at the key with a look of frustration. He was sure that if keys had tongues, this one would be pointing it jeeringly at him and blowing raspberries.

He looked over at the machine of which he was destined to become a part. It was several hours away from being completed at most. Just then, a trailing wire caught his eye. Stretching out a leg, he managed to pull it closer to himself using his toe.

"Yes!"

After grabbing the wire with his free hand, he tugged it sharply out of its socket in the machine. He then flung that end of the wire around the top of the chair, creating a loop. Holding both ends of the wire, the Time Lord jerked it sharply, causing the chair to topple over towards him. It made a mighty clang as it hit the cold metal, accompanied by the much quieter jangling of the keys as they slipped from their resting place.

He reached out and scooped up the keys in his right hand. He had it! He could escape!

He reached up and fumbled with the correct key to get it in the lock. _Almost there…_

A hard-soled shoe suddenly cracked across his chest, sending the key flying from his hand. The Doctor grunted as he was pressed down against the floor. Keeping the Doctor pinned down with his foot, the Valeyard scooped up the keys and clasped them tightly. He then straightened up the chair, confiscated the wire and silently began putting it back in its original position in the extractor. Words were unnecessary; the Doctor could tell what the threat was by the anger in the Valeyard's eyes.

"You won't kill me," the Doctor said, smiling. "The Time Lords aren't here to sustain the paradox. It would be suicide."

This made the Valeyard smile back. "My dear Doctor, don't you think I would know that?"

The Doctor's grin faded, and worry began to build. "What have you done?"

"Let's use one of the Dream Lord's little sayings," the Valeyard said. He pushed down sharply with his foot, causing the Doctor to yelp in pain, before releasing the pressure and striding to the other side of the room. "If you die in a dream, you wake up in reality. Ask me what happens when you die in reality."

"You die. That's why it's called reality."

"Good, so tell me this…" He moved closer, looming threateningly over the Doctor. "What happens when you die in the _Matrix_?"

"You die in reality…"

Reality dawned.

"What have you done?" the Doctor cried demandingly. "Who have you trapped in the Matrix?"

"Let's put it this way, Doctor," he replied suavely, not answering the question. "If you don't co-operate – if you try to escape again or sabotage my equipment – I can and will, as Keeper of the Matrix, destroy them."

* * *

**I guess I didn't _really_ deliver when I promised more Seven action, but DreamLord!Seven counts, right?**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! :D x**


	23. Chapter 23

oOoOo

(_Ace and 'Seven'_)

**Court Room, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

Thirty minutes had silently passed by. In that time, the Dream Lord Doctor had somehow woven the Matrix wires into some sort of net (for whom the trap was set, Ace tried not to ponder). A solitary cable connected it up to the main computer. Not a word had been uttered in this half-hour period, giving Ace ample time to think.

"I don't think you are the Dream Lord," she exclaimed confidently, in an attempt to sound like the Doctor did whenever he unmasked the bad guys. "I don't know what you're up to, but the Dream Lord lives to torment. You haven't said anything of the sort for _ages_."

When she'd rehearsed this through in her mind, the reply had been 'Very good, Ace. I was only pretending. I've been the Doctor all along,' and he'd then fondly tweaked her nose like he always did. The death-glare she actually received told her this was wishful thinking.

"I _am_ the Dream Lord," he said grittily. He still rolled his 'r's like the Doctor did, but something told Ace it was all part of the act. "Though I am beginning to dislike the name," he added as a side-note.

"Oh yeah? Why's that then?" She'd meant to sound confident, but she could hear her voice wavering. Perhaps, she thought, it would have been better to stay quiet. Both of them listened when a surveillance camera buzzed as it turned to face them.

"I chose it to counteract 'Time Lord', when really, in this incarnation –" He gestured towards his counterfeit body, " - I was both. The Doctor can be the lord of your dreams, your nightmares…"

"He can, but he won't," Ace quickly interrupted. She didn't want to hear more.

He prowled slowly up into the prosecutors' box and rested his hands far apart on the ledge, his fingers splayed. "You sound very sure about that."

"I _am_ sure," she said, though she didn't sound like it. "Besides," she added hurriedly, "if he did, he'd do it to save the universe or something."

"Ha!" He shot her an amused expression and drummed his fingers on the woodwork, as if playing a scale on an invisible piano. "You don't think he actually_ cares_ about you, do you?"

Ace kept her eyes fixed on the floor. She promised herself she wouldn't be drawn into his lies. "He has a weird way of showing it sometimes, but yeah, he does."

The Dream Lord chuckled darkly and said to himself (though loud enough for Ace to hear it), "And you think he doesn't mess with your head…" His voice trailed off, lost in evident amusement.

"What are you on about?"

Unlike Ace's voice, which was buzzing wildly like a trapped fly in a jam jar, the Dream Lord's remained cold and clinical. "He _made_ you think that. He doesn't care."

"You _would_ say that. I know who you are."

"You can't really know who I am. You don't even know who the Doctor is."

"I know enough."

"Of course. If you knew the truth about the Doctor, it would probably horrify you. If you knew who he is; what he thinks…"

"Stop it."

"What he's done; the civilisations he's '_saved_'…"

"I said stop it!"

"He may look and act like a sad clown, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's a loaded pistol in one of those Mary Poppins pockets of his. I bet everything's all planned out and each bullet's already got a name on it."

"The Professor doesn't use guns."

"You're right, of course. How silly of me," he replied, feigning defeat, which was soon dissolved by a voice like acid. "Genocide is so much more efficient."

"No!" she yelled in a brief blast of anger.

The Dream Lord smiled in malicious victory.

Ace didn't need this. She took in a deep but shaky breath. _Just calm down_, she told herself. _Don't let him win_."Where's the _real_ Doctor?"

"Which one? The clown or the child? Or do you mean the Valeyard? Or me?"

"You're not the Doctor and neither is the Valeyard." The Dream Lord Doctor remained silent, but stared at her intently. "Now answer my question."

He took a sharp intake of breath and gambolled down from the prosecutor's stand, twirling his umbrella like a baton. "The Doctor," he said, "the one _you_ travel with, is… somewhere on this ship."

Ace grinned. "He's escaped! You don't know where he is!"

The Dream Lord laughed faintly. "I don't, but it would be easy to track him down. The whole of Space Station Zenobia is rigged with security cameras, including this very court room." He pointed the tip of the Doctor's umbrella in the direction of the nearest camera to illustrate his point. The camera stared back after refocusing its multiple lenses.

"The Doctor's a Time Lord. He's a genius. He could escape you and the Valeyard with his eyes closed." She crossed her arms confidently.

He responded with a shake of the head. "You consider being a Time Lord to be a credential? It's what the species does… or _did_: they called themselves Lord This and Lady That, or gave themselves pointless renegade titles. It's what magicians do to sound superior, and everyone knows all magicians do is trick."

"You're the trickster around here."

"Well then," he said suavely, moving closer until he was within touching distance. "All magicians have assistants. Would you care to be mine?"

"I'm taken, thanks," the teenager replied coldly.

"Come now, Dorothy. Don't be like that." He said it in a way that was meant to be sweet but turned out quite the opposite, like a cupcake sprinkled with salt. "We're the same person really – the Doctor and I."

"You're not a person! You're vile!"

The Dream Lord took a sharp intake of breath and tutted, shaking his head. "How very rude. It seems the Doctor has yet to teach you some manners."

"He _has_ taught me to stand up to scumbags like you," she retorted, standing up. He may have still been looking down at her, but at least now she felt more assertive.

"I'm sure he's very proud," he sneered. He smiled derisively and reached out to tweak her nose.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, PROFESSOR!" she shrieked. She instinctively tried to swat his hand away, but he had stepped backwards too fast for her to make contact. The Dream Lord Doctor's lips twisted into a cruel smile, amused by her choice of address.

"Professor… I mean, Dream Lord… I mean…" Falling back into the defendant's chair, Ace broke down. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to cry. She wasn't a child anymore. She had to pull herself back together again.

Without another word, the Dream Lord Doctor spun on his heels and – swinging his umbrella in idle loops - swaggered back to his net of wires, seemingly proud of the damage he had done.

* * *

**I had fun writing this scene and got a bit carried away. I promise there'll be more action from the other characters in the next chapter. :)**

**Thanks for the reviews! They really help both in terms of improving my writing and making me want to write more. :D**


	24. Chapter 24

**Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy and this was a difficult chapter to write. There's a lot of telepathic communication in this chapter, and it's all in italics and inverted commas for clarity. Enjoy! :D**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Eleven and the Valeyard_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

'_What are you up to?'_

It was several seconds before the reply came. Telepathic contact with oneself was harder than it looked (not that you can _see_ telepathic contact, of course). '_Our memories are synchronised. You should know the answer to that.'_

'_It's been several centuries since it happened for me. My memories are hazy. Just because I know where you are and what your intentions are doesn't mean I can remember what you did… or what you're doing.'_ He made a mental note to revise his time-travel tenses.

His seventh self still didn't answer the question. Instead, he asked another. '_Is the Valeyard still with you?'_

The Doctor looked up, flicking his fringe away from his eyes. The Valeyard stood with his back to him, pointing a sonic probe (which looked remarkably like a flashpen) at the extractor hard drive. '_Yes.'_

The sharp and demanding nature of the next reply sent a stabbing sensation through the older Doctor's brain, leaving him with an awful headache. '_Steal the extractor cable.'_

'_Do you have to think so loudly? You're giving me a headache.'_

'_You _are_ a headache.'_

'_Rude.'_ Were this not a telepathic conversation, he would have frowned intensely.

'_Honest.'_

'_Why do you need the cable?'_

'_The Valeyard's extractor won't work without it. I'll explain the rest later.'_

'_Of course. That's how you roll.'_ The Doctor tried to roll his eyes, but stopped when he realised it only made his headache worse.

'_It's connected to the –'_

'_I know! You're not the only genius on this ship, I'll have you know… Well, technically you are, because we're the same person, but…'_

'_JUST GET THE CABLE!'_

'_There's no need to shout!'_

"Doctor, I can hear you both shouting," the Valeyard said aloud. "Break off the telepathic connection. Now."

The Doctor broke the link, now feeling like a teenager who'd had his mobile phone confiscated.

"That's better." The man in black turned back to his work. "I know how you operate. I don't want you plotting anything."

"What did you overhear?"

"One positive aspect of stemming from you is that I'm sensitive to your psychic activity. However, I only _sense_ your conversation. I cannot overhear it."

The Doctor kept a straight face, but was secretly smiling inside at this news. That sensation faded though, when the Valeyard started twirling the extractor cable around his index finger.

"You liar."

The Valeyard didn't smile, but turned his head towards the images being sent from the courtroom surveillance cameras. He started at the sight of the little man with the umbrella. He anxiously turned up the volume:

"_He may look and act like a sad clown, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's a loaded pistol in one of those Mary Poppins pockets of his…_"

_Ah_, the Valeyard thought. _It's only the Dream Lord. _Although impressed and tempted to listen in to more of his ally's torments, he decided to reduce the volume back to its original level.

He aimed his sonic probe at the Doctor, who braced himself for the pain. None came. Instead, the manacle around his wrist snapped. He winced and rubbed at the red mark it had left behind.

"Come over to the machine, Doctor," the Valeyard ordered, raising the headset with one hand and gesturing towards the chair with the other.

"It's finished already?"

"You doubt my genius? I stem from you after all."

"Very flattering, but I'd rather not be reminded, thanks." Reluctantly, the Doctor edged towards the extractor and perched himself on the edge of the seat. The Valeyard pushed him back into it and forcefully embellished the Doctor's crown with the headset.

He flicked a switch. The process began.

…

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**Unknown Location, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

'_Doctor!'_ the voice in his head cried. _'DOCTOR!_' The Time Lord sighed. His future self had only just hung up and he didn't really want to answer the phone again.

'_Don't shout!" _he replied. '_We don't want the Valeyard listening in_. _Plus, you're giving me an enormous headache._' He lifted the brim of his hat slightly to massage his throbbing temples.

'_I'm wired up to the Matrix. With all the psychic noise generated, there's no way he could hear us_. _I need you to go back to the Seventh Door._'

'_I can't! I'll be caught!' _The younger Doctor's Scottish brogue bled through his anxiety, even mentally.

'_You have no choice. There's no other way. Go!'_

'_Why?'_

'_Just trust me. I've got a plan.'_

_..._

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**The Matrix**

"We've lost him again!"

"You'd think a man in a black cloak on a landscape consisting of pale rocks would be at least a _bit_ conspicuous," Rory sighed, his feet dragging behind him, awakening said pale rocks.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Amy said, in an attempt to brighten their spirits, which had so far remained dampened, despite there being four suns and not a cloud in sight.

"What?"

"The Lord of the Rings."

Her spouse raised an eyebrow. "Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah. Y'know, when Sam and Frodo follow Gollum to Mordor."

"Except… we're not following a deranged, obsessed almost-Hobbit thing. _We're_ following a possibly deranged and obsessed almost-Doctor who is the living embodiment of everything the Doctor hates about himself, only a hundred times worse."

"Pretty much."

"Lucky us."

A swish of black caught Amy's eye in the distance.

"There he is!"

...

oOoOo

(_Ace and 'Seven'_)

Ace hadn't moved since the mistaken identity incident, save for the shaking of her shoulders as she silently cried into her hands, trying hard not to be seen. A hand suddenly rested on her shoulder, sending an icy shiver down her spine.

"Don't cry, Dorothy. We have an audience." Ace sat up and saw the Dream Lord Doctor waving an arm towards the security cameras which scrutinised her from all four corners of the courtroom.

"I don't care. Leave me alone." Her voice was steady, but the Dream Lord could sense her fear and anger. Her shaky breathing could be felt through where his hand rested. She shoved him away. "Haven't you got your machine to get back to or something?"

"It's almost finished. I could do with a break."

"I'll break your nose for you if you want."

"No wonder the Doctor's taken a shine to you. He's a fan of breaking things too, although not quite in the same way as you." He walked round and bent down in front of her, so that they were almost nose to nose. He reached out an index finger and pointed it towards her heart, making sinister slicing motions. Ace swatted him away and curled up in her imaginary cocoon. "Leave me alone!"

He then grabbed her forcefully by the collar and pulled her into a limp standing position. "You never want to be alone," he spat, his words like corrosive acid to her ears. "Being alone for too long drives you mad. It makes your desire to sacrifice others and commit murder so much stronger. Why, your precious Professor's done some of his best work whilst travelling alone…"

"SHUT UP!" Ace screamed. The Dream Lord shunted her back into the defendant's chair, where she wished she could curl up and fade away to where no one could see her cry. He turned around and walked calmly towards the door. He entered the passcode; it opened; he walked through it; it closed behind him…

With a heavy sigh, his disguise melted away. The Doctor leaned against the metal barrier, beyond which his best friend lay broken. He pressed his hand against the door, as if it were a substitute for her shoulder again. He squeezed his eyes shut – an expression of pain and guilt etched across his face, which seemed to have aged by a thousand lifetimes.

"I'm sorry, Ace," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

With that, he turned and sped off down the empty passage towards his goal – the Seventh Door.


	25. Chapter 25

**Not only is this chapter quite late, but it's also quite short. Sorry about that, but the next chapter should be up soon-ish, now that I know where the plot is going (mostly). :) x**

* * *

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

_Extractor cable… extractor cable… extractor cable…_

If he could picture the extractor cable inside the Matrix – preferably right inside the Seventh Door, then (hopefully) his past self would be able to retrieve it. He couldn't steal the original – it was too late for that and there was no way he could halt the process – but he could create a copy. That would do the trick, wouldn't it?

His mental vision hazed and swirled, rippling in time with his throbbing head. He pushed the pain aside and focused. _Extractor cable… extractor cable…_

.

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor moved quickly and determinedly. He marched down the passage, occasionally breaking out into a small jog, only to slow down again moments later. He didn't know whether that was because he was tired, or because the guilt on his shoulders was too heavy to carry. He slowed to a standstill by the Seventh Door, which glowered back at him like a hard-as-nails palace guard. The Doctor reached out for the handle, only to see the empty keyhole.

He didn't have the key.

With a vague sense of hope, he patted his pockets. Still no key.

"Looking for something?"

The Doctor spun round startled. The Dream Lord – the real one – stood in front of him with the keyring hanging from his index finger. "Ah, yes," the Doctor said, his voice as flat as his smile, "Now if you could just hand it over and I'll be on my way." He reached out for the key, but the Dream Lord snatched it away.

"Uh-uh uh," he replied mockingly. "This key has been entrusted to me and I'd rather like my deposit back."

The Doctor smiled. "So what are you in this grand scheme? The Valeyard's sidekick?"

"I'm no one's sidekick," the Dream Lord replied, "and I certainly don't work for the benefit of that narcissistic nutcase."

"Then why are you here?"

"The Valeyard has the power and technology to give me a physical form. If I help to free him from the Matrix, I'll be able to terrorise you without the need for psychic pollen."

"Do you really expect the Valeyard to uphold his side of the bargain?"

"If he doesn't, I can quite easily trap him in another world. Simple as, really."

"You're expendable to him. He'd destroy you first."

The Dream Lord grinned, obviously amused. "You've been planning again. You've been doing the maths."

The Doctor shuffled back. "I always preferred thermodynamics myself."

"Don't play the fool with me," the Dream Lord sighed. "You've been adding up the damage on both sides and deciding which one you should prevent – sacrificing the few to save the many."

"I'm not sacrificing anyone."

"I'm sure young Dorothy would disagree. That's twice you've broken her now. How can you be sure you can put her back together again?"

"It's better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

"Do you really expect me to tell you?"

"No, but I was rather hoping to hear one of your magnificent speeches."

"Sorry to disappoint," the Doctor replied sarcastically.

"I'm not overly disappointed. I could quite easily get one from the pantomime villain."

"The Valeyard?"

"Who else?"

"Just give me the key." The Doctor marched forward to grab it, but ended up snatching at thin air, because the Dream Lord had disappeared and reappeared behind him.

"Don't be so idiotic, Doctor. It really is embarrassing."

.

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor frowned. Something was wrong. His past self should have got there by now. He continued to picture the cable in his head, but was worried as to why it hadn't been collected yet.

"_Oi!_"

"_What?" _came the reply.

"_Where are you?"_

"_By the door. The Dream Lord has the key_._"_

The Doctor released a mental sigh, which whistled through the other Doctor's head. _"I'll see if I can fix it_."

The telepathic connection was severed in order to break away from all distractions. He focused all his energy on the door and imagined it opening.

.

oOoOo

(_Seven_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Aha! Thank you very much!" the Doctor exclaimed gleefully as the door unlocked itself with a loud metallic clunk.

"No!" his alter-ego cried as the Doctor reached into the Matrix and pulled out an extractor cable.

The Doctor ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the corridor, the cable clutched in the same hand as his umbrella, while the other held his hat firmly on his head. He was grateful that the Time Lords had deserted the station after his trial. To have run into guards (or anyone else for that matter) would have ruined his escape. Out of nowhere, the Dream Lord flashed up in front of him. The Doctor skidded to a halt, but still smacked into him, sending both men crashing to the floor, knocking the cable from his hand. Two sets of eyes locked on to the prize and they scuffled towards it, clambering over each other with outstretched fingers.

"It's mine!"

"It's mine!"

oOoOo

(_Eleven_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor felt every essence of his soul being sucked up the cable as if it were a drinking straw. His dark energy was part of him. It didn't _dominate_ him, but it was substantial enough to physically weaken him when it vanished. He slumped in his chair, barely breathing, while his mind poured into the computer. More recent memories tumbled into the simulated reality: the collapse of the Citadel; the Ultimate Sanction; the Moment – the destruction of everything he loved and everything he grew to hate. The Time War raged again.

All the while, the Doctor was screaming one thing – one message into the dark and twisted abyss of the Matrix where his history was now repeating itself.

_Amy! Rory! Get out of there!_


	26. Chapter 26

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**The Matrix**

"This is useless! How do we even know if the _Valeyard_ knows where the door is?" Amy exclaimed, swaying slightly. The walk had been a long one, and it didn't look as though they'd find the end of it any time soon.

Rory remained silent, but Amy could tell that he was wondering exactly the same thing. His grim expression implied he had accepted defeat, but she knew that he hadn't – not yet. If he had been alone, then he would have stopped miles back, but with Amy there, things were different. She didn't know whether it was because she spurred him on, or simply because he felt responsible for her safety. Suddenly, the silence was blasted out of existence by a monumental explosion.

"What on earth was that?!" Rory cried, tightening his grip on his wife's arm. He looked up and saw the sky ablaze, screaming and burning in a thousand shades of red. Daleks swarmed like flies towards a towering dome caving in to ruthless bombardment. A deep canyon had been smashed into its side, and the metal monsters flooded in like microbes through a wound. Blood-curdling screams racked the smoke-filled air.

"This is the Citadel on Gallifrey!" Rory exclaimed in horror, his wide eyes gleaming white, in contrast to the surrounding crimson. "This is the end of the Time War!"

"It's just another memory," Amy murmured, her eyes clamped shut. She stuttered as she spoke, uttering simple, reassuring sentences like prayers. "Nothing c-can hurt us. Nothing is real."

A Dalek laser bolt churned up the ground near where they stood, sending them flying into a patch of blood-red grass. Rory winced, as a small rock had sliced his skin under his right eye. He wiped the blood away. "If this isn't real, then we'd be like phantoms. It's a memory, but it's a simulated _reality_. We can't interact; we can't interfere; but we can get hurt. We're not safe here, Amy! We've got to go!"

"This is the destruction of Gallifrey, yeah? The _end _of the Time War… In that case, where's…?"

"ROMANA!"

"Romana?" Amy turned round to see a war-hardened man – showing age and anger beyond his years – struggling against a woman, who was desperately dragging him away from the Citadel. Both were clad in leather. The man's hair was muddy brown and was what remained of soft ringlets, which had been severed for battle. The woman, however, looked like she had been a warrior from birth. The Ponds watched the struggle unfold…

…

"_Leela, let me go! I have to save Romana!" He tried to pull away, despair and battle scars etched into his face._

_She defiantly kept her arms wrapped round his waist. "You can't go back in there! You'll get yourself killed!"_

"_PLEASE!" he begged. Another explosion shattered the side of the Citadel. The dome fell apart, cascading down onto the populace like a glass waterfall. He stopped struggling and his legs gave in; he fell to his knees shaking; his voice descended to a frightened whisper. "_Please_."_

"_She'll be fine, Doctor. She learnt under your guidance, after all."_

_He just shook his head sadly and sobbed into his blood-stained hands._

…

"That's the Doctor," Amy said to herself, as if to convince herself of what she saw. "He… he looks like a soldier…"

Another round of Dalek fire shot through the air, piercing the smoke like deadly strobe lighting. The grass caught light, and fire savagely roared like a lion, rearing up to nearly engulf Amy and Rory from all sides. Through the searing heat and light, Amy could see the Doctor and Leela running from the flames.

"If this is a simulated reality, then our thoughts can change the world," Amy said determinedly. "I deny this reality!" she screamed. "I DENY THIS REALITY!"

"Amy, this is a memory!" Rory cried back. "We can't change anything!"

She turned back to her husband, her eyes streaked with tears (from both the billowing smoke and genuine fear and grief). She wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They stood together, entwined as one, as the fire closed in to devour them.

.

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Dream Lord_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor ran, clutching the cable once again in the palm of his hand. He silently thanked the universe for being there. If he and the Dream Lord had done battle in one of his contorted dreamscapes, things would no doubt have ended very differently. With a quick gasp, he skidded to a halt at the sight of his adversary in front of him again, and he slipped slightly on the smooth floor. He drove the tip of his umbrella into it to regain his balance. The Dream had flickered into view like a phantom virus, and their eyes now locked in a resounding yet silent thunderclap.

The Dream Lord didn't know what the Doctor's intentions were. What he _did_ know was that that information wasn't about to be shared willingly. He tried to stretch out the tendrils of his mind to grasp whatever fragment of knowledge he could find, but the gap between universes, as well as the mental barriers the Doctor had in place, proved impenetrable. Instead of conveying his frustration, the Dream Lord cocked his head in curiousness.

"What I fail to understand, Doctor…" That was a lie in itself. He understood the Doctor perfectly. All he wanted was to hear an answer first-hand. "…Is why you swim in your own self-loathing."

The Doctor blinked. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear at all. Knowing the Dream Lord's style, his statement wasn't nearly insulting enough. He covered up his surprise with a defensive remark. "Self-loathing? I have no self-loathing," he said flatly. He tried to push past the Dream Lord, staring at the floor. "And I certainly don't swim."

The Dream Lord raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?" He put out an arm in front of the Doctor to block him. "Who'd have thought someone with such a notorious poker face such as yours would be able to tell such an unconvincing lie?"

The Doctor merely sighed. "When the truth hurts, sometimes lies can ease the pain."

"Is that your excuse? I'm not sure if young Dorothy will accept that after you've made her watch you and her doppelganger fall to your deaths from a balcony – I'm still not happy about that, by the way."

"It's all for the…"

"All for the best? All for the greater good? Oh, Doctor, you do make me chuckle." He lowered his head and laughed softly to himself in order to stress his point. "All the universe is a chess board to you. You don't just want to be the white king either. You want to be the chessmaster, transcending the laws of time and space just to control your little pawns." He waved his right arm in front of him, and a chess board flickered into vision, floating in the space between them. Ghostlike, it hovered similar to a projection – as if it was trying to tear through the fabric of this universe, but only managing to stretch it.

"Of course, the best chessmasters need to be ruthless," he continued. He flicked his wrist, adding emphasis to the final word. The chess board spun in response, so that the white army were facing the same way as the Doctor. "If the black queen needs capturing-" The black and white pieces shuffled at shutter-speed to act out the scenario, merging for a second as a blur of grey before they stopped, splitting once again into their two distinct colours. "-then pawns must be sacrificed, but you know that, don't you." He shot the Doctor a challenging stare, the corners of his mouth curled upwards into a sly smile.

The Doctor remained silent, but the expression on his face implied that he did. His opponent nodded in recognition. "Of course you do, but what happens when I do this?" The Dream Lord waved his hand over the board and, like a puppeteer, guided the black bishop to a new square. "Check."

The Doctor's eyes surveyed the black and white battlefield. His hearts sank a little, but he didn't let his face show it.

The Dream Lord's smile broadened. "Your king is in check; my bishop can be taken by your queen, which would then in turn be taken by my knight. Any other attempt to un-check yourself would still ultimately result in checkmate. Make your move."

The Doctor frowned. There was no other way out of this. "If your bishop is taken, I could defeat you in no more than three moves, the only sacrifice being my queen." The pace of his voice quickened as the cogs in his brain went into overdrive. "To move my rook –" The flourish on the 'r' rolled like a livid drumroll. He mapped out the sequence of events in his head. "-would ultimately result in checkmate. You were right." He sighed, but kept his eyes on the game. "There's only one option." He looked up at the Dream Lord and raised his hand above the phantom board. The Dream Lord nodded, and the Doctor guided his queen towards the black bishop, which turned to dust and drifted silently away.

The smile worn by the Dream Lord broadened and he snapped his fingers. The Doctor's queen whirled round and round, becoming a miniature version of Ace, wearing a long white robe.

The Doctor winced. He'd seen this coming. Tiny Ace suddenly became animated. She looked round, taken aback by the full-size chess pieces. "Where am I? Professor? Professor, are you there? Where am I?" Her voice was one of alarm, only made worse when the black knight edged towards her, square by square…

"Doctor! Doctor, help!" She tried to run, but found herself unable to leave her square, as though it were surrounded by an invisible forcefield. She released a cry of desperation as she turned back to face the advancing shadow. It burst through into her four-sided prison. A torturous scream racked the air as her pale skin and white robe burst into ash.

All was silent, but the sound still lingered in the Doctor's ears as he stared horrified at the board.

"You sacrificed your queen, Doctor. It's only so long before you'll do so in real life, too. Funny isn't it? You're more like the Valeyard than you think."

.

* * *

**Forgive me for any inaccuracies in the Time War section (I haven't listened to the audios), and also for the long wait. I'll try and get the next chapter up by the weekend, and the whole story wrapped up by the end of next week.**


	27. Chapter 27

oOoOo

(_Seven and the Dream Lord_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The Doctor flicked his wrist, trying to fling the chess board away. Against his wishes, it remained where it was.

The Dream Lord was smirking. The Doctor was seething.

The Doctor took a step forward, striding through the phantom chess board, which dissipated into the surrounding air – air now full of static tension. He looked up at his tormentor, an electrical storm now brewing again in his eyes.

"I am not like the Valeyard, and I am not like you."

The Dream Lord raised an eyebrow, allowing the Doctor to make his case.

"I'm not a chessmaster. I never have been. A chessmaster must have the gifts of foresight, manipulation and ruthlessness, which, granted, are all traits I possess. What you're forgetting, _Dream Lord,_" he continued, 'r's flourishing like solar flares, "is that I do not treat _anyone_ I love like pawns. My friends aren't made of white plastic, or bone, or wood, or holograms. They are made of flesh, and blood, and minds, and _souls._" He took a deep breath, and his voice lowered, diminishing into a dangerously quiet whisper. His eyes narrowed. "I might hurt them; I might break them; the universe might be a better place because of it, but I _never_ throw them away." With that, he brandished his umbrella and swung it in front of him, straight through the Dream Lord, who vanished from view, like settled dust being blown away. The Doctor thrust the extractor cable into his right jacket pocket and hurried back down the empty corridor towards the court room.

.

oOoOo

(_Ace_)

**Court Room, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"_Ten green bottles hanging on the wall…"_

Ace tried to cover up the ominousness of the silence with a song. She didn't try to fool herself into thinking she was musically gifted. She wasn't.

"_Ten green bottles hanging on the wall…"_

However, it stopped her from thinking of other things – how the Dream Lord had stolen the Doctor's face; how he had twisted that endearing smile into something cruel; how he had made that sweet Scottish voice say all those horrible things just to upset her. She was somewhat disappointed in herself for letting those things get to her. She'd have thought she'd be immune to things like that by now.

"_And if one green bottle should accidently fall…_"

On cue, the door slid open and the Doctor fell through it after tripping over his own feet. While the Doctor wasn't a green bottle, Ace was sure the Time Lord was keeping something bottled up.

"Professor?"

"Ace, there you are! Come down and give me a hand. Quickly!" He had a cable – no doubt of extreme significance, judging by how he was fussing over it – and was connecting it to the net of wires on the floor.

"Doctor, is that really you?"

"Of course it's me! We don't have time for this! Come and help me!"

Sensing the urgency of the situation (and the tangle the Doctor was getting himself into), Ace jumped down from the defendant's stand and jogged over to him.

"Take this," he said, placing one end of the cable in her open palm and folding her fingers tightly around it. "When I tell you to, connect it to the red wire in the Matrix mainframe." He indicated towards the giant computer, its innards spilling from the open hatch below.

_Red wire – must be a life or death situation,_ Ace thought. Her breathing faltered as the Dream Lord forced himself into their reality. He took a step towards her, smiling malevolently. The Doctor instinctively came between them. "Stay away from her," he growled.

"Ooh, very menacing. Not quite as heroic as when your future self does it, though. Believe me, Doctor. The little girl means nothing to me," he replied, triggering a brief spark of anger in Ace, not because he meant nothing to her (That was something she was already well accustomed to.), but that he saw her as a little girl. She contemplated whether or not the Doctor saw her like that too, before refocusing on the matter at hand. The Doctor and his alter-ego circled each other like wolves ready to fight, the splayed net of wires their battleground.

"Ace?" the Doctor said calmly, though loud enough to grab her attention.

"Yes, Professor?"

He paused, as if re-evaluating his options. While his friends weren't considered chess pieces, the rest of the universe shifted across his mental playing board.

"Now."

Ace thrust the cable into the computer, bonding it to the red wire. Without so much as a spark or surge of electricity, both men fell to their knees, clasping their heads as if to keep them from splitting in two. The Doctor, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, reached out an arm like a blind man. Ace grasped his hand and hauled him off the net, where, as though he had been released from a suffocating grip, let out a raspy gasp of relief. They both watched as the Dream Lord produced an agonising cry somewhat muffled by the curtain between the universes.

"The extractor cable extracts dark energy!" the Doctor exclaimed, fighting to be heard over the frantic whirring of the computer and the shouts of his adversary. "The Dream Lord is an amalgamation of everything remotely evil about me; he's one hundred per cent dark energy! It's extracting the very nature of his existence!"

Seconds later, a purple cloud of smoke enveloped the shrieking phantom, wrapping him up in a whirlpool of energy. It then drained away through the wires, leaving nothing behind but a resounding silence.

The Dream Lord was gone.

.

oOoOo

(_Eleven and the Valeyard_)

**Matrix Control Hub, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

The readings on the main monitor, moments ago rising at a pace so slow it was almost stationary, now rocketed upwards. A mauve mist oozed from the connection between the extractor cable and the main computer. The Doctor's eyes opened, and, with some effort, disconnected himself from the headset.

"But that's not me!" he exclaimed, joining the Valeyard in analysing the readings. "Someone else is supplying the dark energy!"

Both sets of eyes turned towards the surveillance footage and widened after taking in what they saw. The Professor and Ace sat huddled by the spilt innards of the Matrix hard-drive, while the Dream Lord writhed within a swirling purple cloud.

"But the Dream Lord consists entirely of dark energy," the Doctor said aloud (not that he was speaking to anyone in particular). "He's going to…" The Dream Lord vanished. "…do that."

"Good riddance," the Valeyard muttered, before turning round – cloak billowing out behind him – and tugging the power cable, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

"Good riddance? He was your ally!"

"Ally? Business partner ,perhaps. An allegiance suggests an attempt at friendship."

The Doctor eyed the Valeyard with caution.

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm going to do with you."

"It might have crossed my mind," the Doctor said. "Though I assume you're not going to kill me, which makes a nice change"

"Indeed. I've got what I came for. I'll let you go," was the reply. The Valeyard stepped into his stone sarcophagus and turned back to face the Doctor. "For now." He shot his adversary a sly smile before dematerialising. The sound of the stone time machine ground against the curtain between dimensions, squeezing its way into the vortex.

"What you came for?" The Doctor looked puzzled.

Then he remembered.

"OH!"

.

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**The Matrix**

Amy didn't know what would happen to her after she died. She'd never really thought about it, which was surprising, really, seeing as she was a frequent visitor to death's door. The heat of the fire had perished, swept away by a cool wind which caressed her bare neck and brushed through every strand of her hair.

_This is heaven. I'm dead. It has to be._

She could still hear the shrieks and cries of the dying, making her wonder for a moment if she'd gone the other way. But then, what hell would extinguish its own fires? She refused to open her eyes to find out. That worry, though, was carried away with the wind when she heard his voice.

"Amy?"

"Rory?" She gripped him tighter, burying her head even deeper into his shoulder. He silently coaxed her into looking at him, and held her chin in his hand, gently, as if she might break.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she replied, with a faint smile. "Where are we?"

The cries of the Time Lords had faded, as had Gallifrey itself, replaced by…

"The door –the Seventh Door," Rory said, pointing at the gateway home, which, although eroded by distance, stood tall and proud against the stark white landscape. "We were swept away from Gallifrey by some sort of purple tornado – just in the nick of time, too. It's shown us the way out!"

Rory's relief, however, was short-lived. The couple watched in dread as the cloaked figure stepped through the door.

"It's shown the Valeyard the way out too," Amy said. "Come on!"


	28. Chapter 28

oOoOo

(_Amy and Rory_)

**Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Where did he go?"

The corridor was empty in both directions. The only sounds were those of their own breathing and the distant humming of a generator, until…

"Amy, I hear someone coming," Rory said in a harsh whisper.

"The Valeyard?"

Rory nodded and ushered Amy against the wall. They shuffled along the corridor, holding their breaths so as not to make a sound, until they reached the corner. The footsteps grew closer…

Rory nodded at Amy and she nodded back. She knew what he was thinking. He raised his hand in front of her and counted down on his fingers. _Three… two… one…_

"Get him!"

They leapt from their hiding place and jumped on him, pinning him down by his shoulders, except instead of long black robes, their catch was wearing tweed.

"Ow!" He looked up at them with a look of mild pain and confusion, his familiar face ancient-yet-boyish as opposed to the sallow-skinned one the couple were expecting.

Amy released her grip on his shoulder. "Doctor!" With a sigh of relief, she fell down to embrace him, resting her head on his chest.

"Sorry, Doctor," Rory said, standing up and sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "We thought you were…"

"The Valeyard? Yes, I assumed as much." When Amy had stood up, the Doctor held out a hand and she pulled him to his feet.

"Do you know where he is?" the redhead asked.

"He got away. Both of him did."

"You can't be sure of that. Have you seen him?"

"His TARDIS dematerialised just now. I heard it and went to apprehend him when…"

"We attacked you. Oops."

"Don't worry. He was long gone," the Doctor said reassuringly. Rory nodded, but he still looked guilty. "Look, what I should be worrying about is _you_. Are you both okay?" The Doctor eyed their scorched clothes and the cut below Rory's cheek with suspicion.

"We're fine," Amy replied with a faint smile on her lips. "Just a little…"

"Traumatised," Rory continued.

Now it was the Doctor's turn to look guilty. "How much did you see?"

"Skaro – twice." Rory racked his brain. "Gallifrey when the Citadel fell, a junkyard, some sort of military base, a pink city that was a bit like a maze…"

"Castrovalva, yes." The Doctor decided to fixate on the recursive city not because it was important to him (hospitable though it was) but because it shielded his mind from the other memories. He nodded at some and winced at others.

"… and then we watched you die."

"Lake Silencio, 2011?"

"No, San Francisco… I don't know the year."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That memory wasn't extracted from me. I would have felt it. Other Me was wired up at one point, but…"

"Are you suggesting that Other You," Rory cleared his throat, "I mean, the other Doctor, had memories of his own death before it actually happened?"

The Time Lord shrugged. "I had great clarity of insight in those days, if I do say so myself. You never know."

Rory sighed and changed the subject, but decided to store a few questions to ask the younger Doctor later. "Where do we go now then?"

"The court room, which is, if I remember correctly…" The Doctor pivoted on his heels, pointing a finger in all directions until he made up his mind and signalled for them to turn left. "This way."

.

oOoOo

(_Seven and Ace_)

**Court Room, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Is it over now, Professor?"

"That depends what you mean by 'over'." The pair still remained huddled to one side of the net. Her arm had slipped around the Doctor's waist in a tight sideways hug, her head leaning against his chest. His left arm was wrapped around her shoulder; his right was leaning out behind him to support them both.

"The Dream Lord won't be bothering us again, right? He's gone?"

"His very essence was sucked into the Matrix, giving the Valeyard the dark energy he wanted, so the Dream Lord is dead – though I use the term lightly - and the Valeyard will have left feeling satisfied."

"How about if I use the other definition of 'over'?"

"The Dream Lord is a psychic parasite. He could be easily replicated if any fresh psychic pollen decided to prey on my thoughts…"

"Oh."

"… and the younger Valeyard is now free from the Matrix, and will no doubt return to terrorise me, so, in that respect, it certainly isn't 'over'."

"That was still pretty clever though – using the Dream Lord's machine to ultimately defeat him."

"The Dream Lord's machine?_" _The Doctor looked at the net of wires. "Oh… yes._"_ He didn't show his guilt through his face, but it was there behind the eyes.

Ace paused, before asking, "If I had a horrible trouble-making alter-ego, what do you think she'd be like?"

"Oh, I shouldn't imagine there'd be much difference," the Doctor replied, wearing a childish grin.

"Oi!" Ace thumped him playfully in the shoulder, though the Doctor could sense she was only smiling half-heartedly.

"Is something the matter, Ace?" he asked quietly, shifting round to face her. He tried to look into her eyes, but she kept them looking down at her hands.

"Do you really think I'm a horrible trouble-maker?"

"No!" the Doctor exclaimed, somewhat taken aback. "No, of course not, Ace. I meant it as a joke." He rested a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. She shuddered.

He looked at her with concern. "Ace?"

She sighed. "When you were off doing God-knows-what, the Dream Lord locked me in here. He looked just like you, except the smile was all wrong, and he said all these things about me, about you…" She shook her head. "It's silly, really. I shouldn't have let it get to me."

"You are many things, Ace, but silly is not one of them."

"He said you don't care; he said you messed with my head and that you plan every murder and genocide…"

"Ace, look at me." The Doctor lifted Ace's chin so that her eyes met his. "I will _always_ care, and I promise I never tamper with your thoughts unless strictly necessary. Also, if I planned everything, I wouldn't be putting us in danger in the first place. My pockets may be as big as Mary Poppins' handbag, but I don't have space for loaded pistols in them." He tapped his right jacket pocket for good measure.

Ace smiled faintly, until, after a few seconds, the smile faded. She stared into her friend's eyes, alarm bells ringing. "How did you know about that?"

"Sorry?"

"Loaded pistols in Mary Poppins pockets. That's _exactly_ what the Dream Lord said." She took time to think over everything. The Doctor's hand was swatted away from her face as Ace stood up and backed away from him. "It was _you_ all along!" she said accusingly. "It was, wasn't it!"

The Doctor remained silent. He'd blown it.

"I don't believe this." Ace stormed from the courtroom, her vision blurred by tears. So blinded was she by anger that she didn't see the Doctor, Amy and Rory as they walked through the entrance. Ace barged through them and set off down the corridor, leaving the trio somewhat perplexed. The younger Doctor tried to follow, but found his path blocked by his older self.

"You've done enough. I'll go to her." With that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving the three weary adventurers in the court room.

.

oOoOo

(_Ace and Eleven_)

**Corridor 8A, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Ace?"

Chasing his young companion through the belly of the space station had reminded the Doctor of how old he was. His double circulatory system may have given him a slight upper-hand with regards to stamina, but it had still taken him a good few minutes to catch up with her. He found her slumped against a wall with a bleak expression on her face, absent-mindedly fondling the Blue Peter badge on her jacket. She hummed to show she had heard, but didn't give a worded reply. The Doctor remained where he was and rocked on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back. "Are you still angry?"

"Slightly, but mainly just disappointed." She looked up at him and beckoned him to join her. "You can sit here if you want to. I won't punch you."

"That's reassuring," the Doctor said, sliding down the wall beside her.

"Why are you here, anyway? Where's the Professor?"

"He's collecting his thoughts," he replied. "I thought hindsight would be better than foresight for this conversation."

"Why didn't he just let me go – from the court room, I mean?"

"It was the only way for him – for _me_ – to make the Valeyard think that he – _I_ – was the Dream Lord. We needed to build the new extractor without being discovered. That, and letting you go would have put you in danger from the _real_ Dream Lord."

Ace smiled. "Break the heart to save the life."

"The usual."

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Those things you said about yourself – about being a trickster and a mass-murderer and whatever – that's not what you're really like, is it?"

He paused before saying, "Not anymore."

oOoOo

(_Seven, Amy and Rory_)

**Court Room, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000**

"Is this a bad time?"

The Doctor looked up at Rory with a cold glare. It quickly melted away, and the Time Lord tapped the floor next to him, inviting him to sit down. "No, not at all. Please."

Rory accepted the invitation, and Amy sat down on the opposite side of the Doctor. "Look, Professor…"

"_Doctor._"

"Sorry, _Doctor._" He made a mental note not to get that wrong again. "I was just wondering how you knew about your death."

"Which one?"

"The next one – where you're shot in San Francisco."

"Shot?"

"Yeah, when you step out of the TARDIS and get shot by gang members. I was just wondering how you knew about that."

The Doctor turned to him, his face a blend of worry and confusion. "Rory, I don't know _anything_ about that."

Rory was lost for words. "Umm…"

"But then, if that memory didn't come directly from _our_ Doctor," Amy said, "and it didn't come from you, then whose memory is it?"

"The Valeyard's, I presume," the Doctor said. "The younger version of him was in the Matrix and he could have easily manipulated it." His eyes glazed over as he lost himself in his own thoughts. "Shot in San Francisco – I was hoping to go out with a little more dignity."

Amy sighed and rose to her feet. "Shouldn't we be getting back to the TARDIS?"

"Of course," the Doctor said, accepting her hand to pull himself up. "Let's round up the others and leave."

.

* * *

**This story is taking much longer than I thought it would, but there's only one more chapter to go.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, everyone!**


	29. Chapter 29

EPLIOGUE

oOoOo

(_Eleven, Amy, Rory, Seven and Ace_)

**The Southern Fields of Sutranadus, Omicron Five, 22564**

"Doctor, where are we?" The sky was dark, and Amy had to make do with stumbling across the field without knowing where she was going. She held on tightly to Rory, who in turn held on tightly to their Doctor. Ace was clinging on to Amy's other hand, and the Professor brought up the rear, using his umbrella to steady himself on the uneven terrain. He watched as his future self led everyone like a line of ducklings towards his chosen spot. He knew where they were –he had navigated his own TARDIS here, after all (once they'd collected it from Area Z, anyway). He decided, however, to let his future self revel in his little guessing game. The line of explorers weaved to the left as they passed through a large semi-circle of metal beacons, which were spread apart but curved inwards slightly towards the small group who had gathered at their focal point.

"This, Amy," the Doctor started, his voice full of childish glee. Amy thought she saw his face lighting up the area around them in his excitement – just for a second, "is the Firework Festival of Omicron Five."

"We could see some crummy old fireworks back on Earth, Professor," Ace called out from towards the back of the line. "I could have mixed up some special ones in my bedroom if you'd asked me to. What's so special about this place?"

As if answering her question, jets of light and sound rocketed upwards into the inky blackness, becoming swallowed up by it. The five onlookers watched with baited breath until bright streams of golden light ripped through the night sky, sending a miraculous chiming sound rippling through the crisp air. Another firework erupted, this time producing green sparks which cascaded towards the planet's surface like an emerald waterfall. With it came another melodic ringing noise at a different pitch to the first. Before the Doctor – both of them - and his friends had time to fully take it in, a flurry of more beautiful bursts of light and sound sprang upwards from the horizon, each producing a slightly different colour and note.

"As experimental as your pyrotechnics may be, Ace," the younger Doctor exclaimed, his voice somehow ringing out through the symphony, "I highly doubt anything you've cooked up can play music."

Ace giggled. "I can give it a try when we get back to the TARDIS if you want."

"No no," he replied. "I think we've had quite enough mayhem for one day."

"More than enough for a _lifetime_ more like."

"More than enough for _several_ lifetimes," the older Doctor chimed in, before chuckling at his own joke. "What tune is this, anyway?" His ears didn't have to strain to hear the melody, but his mind certainly strained to place it.

"Sounds like 'Ten Green Bottles'," Ace said.

…

Thirty minutes had passed and the fireworks had now diminished to quiet flickers in the distance, illuminating the five figures in a faint but warm glow. The music too had taken a similar turn and was now more like a haunting lullaby. They were all sitting down now: the Doctors, the Ponds and Ace, together after what had been a particularly tempestuous day. The younger Doctor and his companion sat a few feet away from the others, lost in their own conversation.

"Quick question…"

"Hmm?"

"Back in Paris – in the dream world – how did you know I was the real Ace?"

"Well, the whole purpose of the dream world was to get the fake you to convince me that he," the Doctor explained, indicating towards his future self, "killed Amy. Of course, the Dream Lord needed some sort of backstory, part of which involved you injuring yourself. The fake Ace – the one we now know to be the Dream Lord himself - had a deep cut on her shoulder. At one point, I had my entire weight on top of it, but she _never _complained about it hurting. Not once. That was enough to make me suspicious." He placed a hand on Ace's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Also, you have no such injury on your shoulder, enabling me to tell you apart."

"So it wasn't because you were reading my mind or anything, then?"

He sensed her scepticism. "You haven't forgiven me yet, have you?" he asked softly, sounding disappointed.

Ace mulled it over, and it took a while for her to voice an answer. "Almost, I think."

He shot her a faint smile and looked at the ground. "I know my own death now."

"Were you killed by nitro-nine in a fit of rage?"

"No."

Ace smiled. "Then I guess that means I'll forgive you eventually."

"Glad to hear it," the Doctor chuckled. He held her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"I'll hold your hand when it happens – your death, I mean," she said in response.

He kept looking down. "Are you sure you'll still be around?"

"Yeah, unless I die first," she replied. Then she looked up in mild panic. "Why? Don't you want me around anymore?"

"Of course I do. I was thinking more along the lines of whether _you_ want to be around _me._"

Ace looked into his eyes and shot him a faint but heartfelt smile. "Of course I do." Then her grin broadened. "Someone's got to keep you in check, haven't they?"

The Doctor chuckled. "Likewise."

…

Amy had a patchy knowledge of the Doctor's past travelling companions, but had never really given the idea much thought. The Time Lord was never really willing to mention them, but after witnessing the Time War in the Matrix, her curiosity had been sparked. Not a fan of subtlety, was Amy, so she asked her question outright and hoped the Doctor would answer it.

"Doctor, who was Romana?"

He looked at her with surprise. "Romana? Why do you ask?"

"You talked about her in the Matrix. You said she…" Her voice trailed off as she realised how sensitive this topic was. This made her mildly surprised when the Doctor answered her.

"Romana was a friend of mine – a Time Lady. We travelled together for a while. She became president of Gallifrey just before the war." His account started like an encyclopaedia entry, but became more detailed as he immersed himself in those memories. His face lit up as he relived past adventures and his eyes reflected the musical sparks in the distance. Then he latched on to that day (or night; considering it was in immense danger of tearing apart completely, the Doctor hadn't really cared about time back then) when Gallifrey fell. The light left his eyes and he hung his head.

"She might still be alive though. You never know," Amy said comfortingly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"The chances of her surviving were one in a million."

"I've been around you long enough to know that, whenever you're involved, 'one in a million' happens nine times out of ten."

The Doctor grinned, but there was still sadness there. "I hope you're right, Pond. I hope you're right."

By now, Rory had shuffled closer, and Amy had leaned into him as the fireworks fizzled out in the distance. Although extinguished, their music still reverberated off the curved sound mirrors behind them.

"That's that," the Doctor said, rising to his feet. "The Valeyard manipulated time to bring us together and I think it's best that we part ways before we rip a whole in it." He reached out a hand and pulled the smaller Time Lord to his feet.

"Indeed," he said, pulling Ace up too. "Time is a strange fabric." He walked over to Rory and shook his hand. "Good luck, Mr Williams," he said, doffing his hat in a gentlemanly manner. Rory responded with a smile and a limp and awkward salute. Ace also shook his hand vigorously, before moving on to Amy.

The two girls embraced in a tight hug, as if they had been friends all their life. "Seeya, Ginger," the younger one said. "Look after him, will you?"

"Same goes for you," Amy replied. "If anything bad happens to him, I might not have anyone to look after in the future… or the past…" She sighed. "It's all a bit wibbly wobbly."

"Wibbly wobbly?" Ace replied incredulously.

"Yeah, you know… wibbly wobbly… timey wimey…" Amy recognised Ace's blank expression and added, "Never mind." Ace just giggled and moved on down the line.

"Hello," the Doctor said grinning as Ace stood in front of him.

"Goodbye," she replied, whilst swallowing every single detail about him before she left: the hair, the bowtie, the jacket. She was sure she could use some of it to annoy her Doctor later. Flinging her arms round his waist, she hugged him tightly, leaning her head against his chest. The gentle ticking of his hearts pulsed in her ear. She felt his hand rest lightly on her back as he half-reciprocated the embrace. That was another thing about this Doctor, she thought to herself. He had lots of love to give, but was always awkward expressing it.

"Ace!" Ace pulled away and turned back to her Doctor, who was waving at her from the TARDIS. She bounded back to the blue box and swung on the door, as the older Doctor and his team followed.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye," the younger Time Lord said, looking up at the man he would become, who nodded silently. Amy then stepped forward, lifted the Doctor's panama and planted a kiss gently onto his forehead. The Doctor's cheeks reddened slightly as he replaced his hat, and he gave her a warm smile. He offered Rory a final nod before stepping back into his time machine and closing the doors. The trio outside stepped back and watched as the box faded from view. Instead of haunting music, it was now the grinding sounds of the TARDIS engines that bounced off the sound mirrors.

The Doctor then herded his small party into his own ship and smiled, glad to see the magical grotto again, far away from the screaming dungeons from earlier… or later, depending on which way you looked at it.

"Now then, Sexy. Where are we off to?"

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FIN

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**So that's that. I don't think it turned out too badly for something that I originally intended to be a one-shot. XD**

**Thanks to all those of you who followed, faved or reviewed this. You really do make my day, and the constructive criticism is also vastly appreciated.**

**I don't know what the next fic will be yet, but this one has been a real learning curve, so hopefully it will be a lot better (and not completely improvised!).**

**Thanks again, and please review and tell me what you think! :D x**


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